I'm beginning to feel like the beginning of my semesters are going to start the same way over and over and over. Last semester, I had a problem with my legs. This semester, I have a cold that won't go away.
Last Monday began with a flu of about 102. Most of my friends freaked out and wanted to take me to the hospital but, after calling my mom, it was determined that I was fine. Heck, even the nurse at the student health center said I was fine (but I'm still having a tough time trying to trust those people.) Then came everything else that comes with a cold: the stuffy nose, the headaches, and the sore throat. I've had a million colds in my 21 years but nothing compared to the intensity of this one. As the week went on, a cough developed and, though my throat seemed fine during the day, at night it went all Dr. Jeckle on me. The past couple of nights have been impossible for me to sleep, either because I can't stop coughing or because my throat hurts so bad that I don't even want to consider swallowing. All the Halls in the world did absolutely nothing for either of those. So, I'm currently on amoxicillin and praying that all of this stuff goes away. I'd like to feel normal again.
That being said, school started back up again today. My first class, newswriting, was extremely awkward. The professor decided to call out not only the names but the majors and years of each student, so I quickly discovered that I was the only junior in a class filled with freshman and a few sophomores. I was on the verge of mentioning that I was on the newspaper staff but I don't want to get off to a bad start with all the younglings around me, so I kept my mouth shut. A little later in the day, I had my rock climbing class, which I had to drop due to the fact that the professor wanted to go on class trips on the weekends and my entire weekend is dedicated to the newspaper.
And speaking of the newspaper... if I said we were busy today, that would totally under-estimate how swamped we were. I spent the majority of my day downstairs with the rest of the editors, helping out as best as I could. My new job as Lead Section Copy Editor has definitely taken on many more responsibilities. I stepped out of the newspaper for an hour to go to a class and, in the time, I received a call from the Chief Copy Editor, wanting to know if I could edit four opinion stories that had arrived extremely late and the current opinion copy editor was at soccer practice. So, off I tromped to the basement again for 2 hours of copy editing. (I had been down there earlier for about 2 hours before my next class and, at that time, they didn't have anything for me to do.) Then, right after I left the school to go home and crash from all my copy editing time, I recieved another call, this time from the managing editor, who needed me to look over the final proof of a couple of stories because the Chief Copy Editor needed to go to class (class? What's that?) and didn't get the time to look over again. So, as I waited for my pasta to cook at home, I sat and edited another three stories.
I'm basically the on-call, go-to copy-editor, when people need someone.
I'm really glad that I decided to take this job before becoming Chief Copy, just so I start feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders getting heavier. I realize that this is the first week of school, so things are a bit crazy, but getting used to being on-call isn't too bad. Especially because I'm going to have a lot more responsibility next semester.
Tomorrow, I have a copy editing class, the religious study on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien, and Women, Men, and the Media. It should be an interesting day...
Now, if I could just stop coughing, the world would be dandy.
Showing posts with label the pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the pain. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Help
I've been keeping most of this inside because I've been a bit embarressed and a little unready to tell everyone my big emotional flaws. But, when I broke down today and told my mom the truth, I decided that I better let the cat out of the bag and break it to the world. Because, really, I shouldn't be ashamed.
I'm getting therapy.
I am one messed up "young adult," if you can't already tell. I'm not quite sure who reads this besides my grandparents and maybe an uncle or aunt, but I really am one messed up person. Because when I was a teen, my dad began his tirade of emotional abuse. Because when I was a teen, I figured out that the only way I could solve things (due to my father) was to get angry. Because when I was a teen, I jumped in the middle of countless arguments, received endless griping about how horrible my mother and sister were, and cried in the corner of my bedroom, hoping that no one would find me there. Because when I was a teen, I discovered that the only way to relieve stress, anger, or any sort of emotion was to cry.
I know this sounds weird and, if you know me in person, you might think I'm a really strong personality and that I have it all together. However, that's my game face. That's what I want to be, what I spend every second trying to be.
The truth is that I am on big ball of salty wet tears. And I can't seem to turn off the hose whatever I do or try. I don't just cry when I'm sad or angry. I cry when I'm scared. I cry when I'm nervous. I cry when there is a situation that I can't control. I cry when I can't figure out my statistics homework the first time. I cry when any sort of emotion beyond happiness gets beyond the level of basic function. And, like I said, I can't turn it off. So imagine being me, going in to my boss' office to ask for a raise, and crying because I'm a little nervous about asking him...
Yea. Pretty pathetic.
But, of course, that's not the reason why I'm going into therapy. The crying is the relief, the break in the dam that helps the pressure to subside. What creates the pressure is the hatred, the pure black blinding hatred for my father and myself that I have built up inside of me that leaks through little cracks, without the crying, effecting my every day life. Making me angry in situations where I shouldn't be angry. Making me depressed when nothing is wrong. The hatred that I have for my father that I can control, which only causes me to hate myself more because I feel like I'm turning into him. The hatred that I have for myself when I look in the mirror and see something different that the person other people tell me that they see.
People tell me not to think badly of myself. They tell me just to take a deep breath and to just calm down. But that's what they don't understand. I don't know how to calm down. And since I don't know how to calm down (except to cry), I can only see myself as this angry, pitiful creature. And it makes me suffer, it makes me depressed. It makes me miserable.
So I'm going to therapy.
I'm getting therapy.
I am one messed up "young adult," if you can't already tell. I'm not quite sure who reads this besides my grandparents and maybe an uncle or aunt, but I really am one messed up person. Because when I was a teen, my dad began his tirade of emotional abuse. Because when I was a teen, I figured out that the only way I could solve things (due to my father) was to get angry. Because when I was a teen, I jumped in the middle of countless arguments, received endless griping about how horrible my mother and sister were, and cried in the corner of my bedroom, hoping that no one would find me there. Because when I was a teen, I discovered that the only way to relieve stress, anger, or any sort of emotion was to cry.
I know this sounds weird and, if you know me in person, you might think I'm a really strong personality and that I have it all together. However, that's my game face. That's what I want to be, what I spend every second trying to be.
The truth is that I am on big ball of salty wet tears. And I can't seem to turn off the hose whatever I do or try. I don't just cry when I'm sad or angry. I cry when I'm scared. I cry when I'm nervous. I cry when there is a situation that I can't control. I cry when I can't figure out my statistics homework the first time. I cry when any sort of emotion beyond happiness gets beyond the level of basic function. And, like I said, I can't turn it off. So imagine being me, going in to my boss' office to ask for a raise, and crying because I'm a little nervous about asking him...
Yea. Pretty pathetic.
But, of course, that's not the reason why I'm going into therapy. The crying is the relief, the break in the dam that helps the pressure to subside. What creates the pressure is the hatred, the pure black blinding hatred for my father and myself that I have built up inside of me that leaks through little cracks, without the crying, effecting my every day life. Making me angry in situations where I shouldn't be angry. Making me depressed when nothing is wrong. The hatred that I have for my father that I can control, which only causes me to hate myself more because I feel like I'm turning into him. The hatred that I have for myself when I look in the mirror and see something different that the person other people tell me that they see.
People tell me not to think badly of myself. They tell me just to take a deep breath and to just calm down. But that's what they don't understand. I don't know how to calm down. And since I don't know how to calm down (except to cry), I can only see myself as this angry, pitiful creature. And it makes me suffer, it makes me depressed. It makes me miserable.
So I'm going to therapy.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Budget Sucks Life Out of Education
It has been a ridiculously long week.
The pain finally started to go away Wednesday afternoon and I finally gave in that night and went to my favorite Chinese grill so I could eat food that wasn't saltines, jello, yogurt, and applesauce. It hasn't gone away completely (the pain) but, as I munch on a bowl of Frosted Flakes, I don't feel guilty for giving in and not giving my stomach an extra day of soft food.
Pain aside, school has been incredibly insane. On Wednesday, I went to my Computer Applications in Health class and found out the my teacher is completely out of his mind. He's forcing us to write a book in about 4 weeks, a collaborative book, about a little wooden boy named PinoChico who attends Chico State as a freshmen and is trying to find the head fairy so he can become a "real boy." And we, the brilliant class who have no idea of what we are doing, have to punch out a chapter with our groups by next Wednesday and come up with freshman boy experiences for little PinoChico to have. Except I went to a community college with all the boys from my high school so I have no idea what freshman boys are like. They seem exactly like high school boys to me!
Also, currently, the state is doing this thing with big universities called Furlough Days. It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of. If you haven't heard of it, it's where the state issues a certain # of days off of the school year and requires that the professor choose 2 or 3 more (I'm not sure how many they have to take), and, on those days, the teacher cannot sent a student an email, work on school work, or set foot on campus or they will be penalized. For the teacher, it just means that they have 3 or 4 days in the semester that they don't get paid for when they would normally have class and get paid. For the students (and especially for me, because I have a different 3 hour class every day, Monday-Thursday, instead of taking my classes twice a week for 1 1/2 hours), this means that we have to miss class, we miss out on getting material that we would otherwise get in a full semester, and we are left unready for jobs and our masters/doctorate degrees. In my case, if I have a Furlough Day (and I think I have about 10), my professor is stuck with trying to teach us 6 hours worth of material in about 3 hours in order to catch us up, or just cut part of the information out of the curriculum entirely.
If I wasn't already frustrated by the budget cuts, I'm very frustrated now. Cutting education is the WORST idea that our idiot governor has ever had, if he ever had an idea in the first place besides lift weights and shoot down the bad guys. Not only am I affected by these Furlough Days, but my statistics class is basically taught online (and I don't have the choice to take one in a classroom because they are all like this) and I come in, once a week, to talk to a professor who helps us confused people out with the online material that we don't understand. What if I want to sit in a classroom and let the teacher lecture at me so I can learn it that way, huh? Some of us can't learn things online like that! They tell you in high school that college is full of opportunity and they have things for everyone, so you can learn in all kinds of ways, and then they cut the budget, decide on one way, and then it's either "my way or the highway, buddy!"
At the community college that my sister is going to, they cut 168 classes and basically fired all the part time professors, just so they could make do. And they canceled a lot of classes the WEEK before school started, or even 2 or 3 DAYS before, so students were scrambling to find classes and many couldn't be full time students even though they had originally signed up to be full time and paid all of their fees.
You know what could save money for the state? If they turned down the amount of AC in the classrooms. It was about 90 degrees outside on Wednesday and, when we went inside, it was about 60 degrees in our classroom. That's a huge difference! And who, honestly, brings a jacket with them in 90 degree weather? I bet if they kept the temperature between 75-80 degrees in classrooms, they would save a TON of money. If we're already wearing shorts and tank tops, who cares if the classrooms are a little warm? It's better than getting frostbite from the temperature change!
I am ready to take this to the governor himself, since I live about 1 1/2 hours away from the state capital. Because this is absolutely ridiculous. He's giving my state a bad rep, to the point where I am strongly convince that I am going to move out of state for my Master's degree, even if it means more fees. At least I will get a decent education that way.
What do you think?
The pain finally started to go away Wednesday afternoon and I finally gave in that night and went to my favorite Chinese grill so I could eat food that wasn't saltines, jello, yogurt, and applesauce. It hasn't gone away completely (the pain) but, as I munch on a bowl of Frosted Flakes, I don't feel guilty for giving in and not giving my stomach an extra day of soft food.
Pain aside, school has been incredibly insane. On Wednesday, I went to my Computer Applications in Health class and found out the my teacher is completely out of his mind. He's forcing us to write a book in about 4 weeks, a collaborative book, about a little wooden boy named PinoChico who attends Chico State as a freshmen and is trying to find the head fairy so he can become a "real boy." And we, the brilliant class who have no idea of what we are doing, have to punch out a chapter with our groups by next Wednesday and come up with freshman boy experiences for little PinoChico to have. Except I went to a community college with all the boys from my high school so I have no idea what freshman boys are like. They seem exactly like high school boys to me!
Also, currently, the state is doing this thing with big universities called Furlough Days. It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of. If you haven't heard of it, it's where the state issues a certain # of days off of the school year and requires that the professor choose 2 or 3 more (I'm not sure how many they have to take), and, on those days, the teacher cannot sent a student an email, work on school work, or set foot on campus or they will be penalized. For the teacher, it just means that they have 3 or 4 days in the semester that they don't get paid for when they would normally have class and get paid. For the students (and especially for me, because I have a different 3 hour class every day, Monday-Thursday, instead of taking my classes twice a week for 1 1/2 hours), this means that we have to miss class, we miss out on getting material that we would otherwise get in a full semester, and we are left unready for jobs and our masters/doctorate degrees. In my case, if I have a Furlough Day (and I think I have about 10), my professor is stuck with trying to teach us 6 hours worth of material in about 3 hours in order to catch us up, or just cut part of the information out of the curriculum entirely.
If I wasn't already frustrated by the budget cuts, I'm very frustrated now. Cutting education is the WORST idea that our idiot governor has ever had, if he ever had an idea in the first place besides lift weights and shoot down the bad guys. Not only am I affected by these Furlough Days, but my statistics class is basically taught online (and I don't have the choice to take one in a classroom because they are all like this) and I come in, once a week, to talk to a professor who helps us confused people out with the online material that we don't understand. What if I want to sit in a classroom and let the teacher lecture at me so I can learn it that way, huh? Some of us can't learn things online like that! They tell you in high school that college is full of opportunity and they have things for everyone, so you can learn in all kinds of ways, and then they cut the budget, decide on one way, and then it's either "my way or the highway, buddy!"
At the community college that my sister is going to, they cut 168 classes and basically fired all the part time professors, just so they could make do. And they canceled a lot of classes the WEEK before school started, or even 2 or 3 DAYS before, so students were scrambling to find classes and many couldn't be full time students even though they had originally signed up to be full time and paid all of their fees.
You know what could save money for the state? If they turned down the amount of AC in the classrooms. It was about 90 degrees outside on Wednesday and, when we went inside, it was about 60 degrees in our classroom. That's a huge difference! And who, honestly, brings a jacket with them in 90 degree weather? I bet if they kept the temperature between 75-80 degrees in classrooms, they would save a TON of money. If we're already wearing shorts and tank tops, who cares if the classrooms are a little warm? It's better than getting frostbite from the temperature change!
I am ready to take this to the governor himself, since I live about 1 1/2 hours away from the state capital. Because this is absolutely ridiculous. He's giving my state a bad rep, to the point where I am strongly convince that I am going to move out of state for my Master's degree, even if it means more fees. At least I will get a decent education that way.
What do you think?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
And the Saga Continues...
Day 2 of Hell.
I really don't enjoy complaining on this blog (and I feel that's all I've been doing for the past few days) but today really sucked. And it's not even noon yet.
I didn't get any sleep last night. Apparently, I am allergic to the medication that the doctor at the Health Clinic gave to me yesterday. If you ever want to kill me, all you have to do is give me a large shot of doxycycline and I'm finished. Tossing and turning and severe stomach pain (that I still have, unfortunately) and nausea (with the desire to vomit but, unfortunately, the world is not that kind) led me to go back to the Health Clinic this morning (with Jo this time, who drove me there, but had to leave early for a class so I had to walk home anyway).
And... what a surprise! The doctor who had drugged me up yesterday wasn't even here today. I sat in the waiting room in silence, contemplating suicide every time my stomach gave me a new jab to remind me just how much I loved it. Finally, the doctor called me in and, fortunately, she was very sympathetic. She even used a line that I was going to use - "This has just not been your week" - so all I could come up with was, "Tell me about it" and proceed to grumble to her about how the medication messed me up last night and the fact that I have a night class tonight that I'm not looking forward to due to the pain that my stomach has been enjoying giving me.
"What classes do you have?" she asked.
"Yoga." I sighed. "I don't want to go."
"Well, I'll give you a doctor's note for that. What else do you have?"
"Drugs in Our Society."
Seems a little ironic, don't you think? I could totally give a lecture today about how much drugs mess you up.
She tried to put me on another oral medication but I refused, telling her that I didn't want to take any more pills if they were just going to mess me up. So we settled on a cream, she gave me instructions to be on a strictly soft foods diet, and then she let me go.
I walked home, somewhat happy about the whole soft foods thing because I absolutely LOVE apple sauce and this means I have an excuse to buy and eat all of the apple sauce that I could ever want. Saltines, too, but I love apple sauce more. However, my happiness immediately faded when I walked in the front door. I logged onto the student job web site and got this little gem:
WHAT????? I just logged on last night! I just applied for a job! What do you mean I got kicked off?? What have I ever done to them? Raaaaaaaaggggeeeeee!
So, now, I have a very short period of time in which I need to take a shower, bike to school, visit the Career Service Office, try not to get angry (despite the fact that my stomach tells me otherwise), find out whether I have still applied for that job that I'm qualified for, visit the school newspaper for Copy Editor info, go to my yoga class, come home, go get worms for Esther, eat, and go back to school for my Drugs lecture. And I just spent fifteen minutes telling you all of this, dear reader, hoping that somebody has sympathy for me. This is one of those days where I need a hug.
Fun filled.
I hate complaining on this thing but, today, I really don't give a darn.
I really don't enjoy complaining on this blog (and I feel that's all I've been doing for the past few days) but today really sucked. And it's not even noon yet.
I didn't get any sleep last night. Apparently, I am allergic to the medication that the doctor at the Health Clinic gave to me yesterday. If you ever want to kill me, all you have to do is give me a large shot of doxycycline and I'm finished. Tossing and turning and severe stomach pain (that I still have, unfortunately) and nausea (with the desire to vomit but, unfortunately, the world is not that kind) led me to go back to the Health Clinic this morning (with Jo this time, who drove me there, but had to leave early for a class so I had to walk home anyway).
And... what a surprise! The doctor who had drugged me up yesterday wasn't even here today. I sat in the waiting room in silence, contemplating suicide every time my stomach gave me a new jab to remind me just how much I loved it. Finally, the doctor called me in and, fortunately, she was very sympathetic. She even used a line that I was going to use - "This has just not been your week" - so all I could come up with was, "Tell me about it" and proceed to grumble to her about how the medication messed me up last night and the fact that I have a night class tonight that I'm not looking forward to due to the pain that my stomach has been enjoying giving me.
"What classes do you have?" she asked.
"Yoga." I sighed. "I don't want to go."
"Well, I'll give you a doctor's note for that. What else do you have?"
"Drugs in Our Society."
Seems a little ironic, don't you think? I could totally give a lecture today about how much drugs mess you up.
She tried to put me on another oral medication but I refused, telling her that I didn't want to take any more pills if they were just going to mess me up. So we settled on a cream, she gave me instructions to be on a strictly soft foods diet, and then she let me go.
I walked home, somewhat happy about the whole soft foods thing because I absolutely LOVE apple sauce and this means I have an excuse to buy and eat all of the apple sauce that I could ever want. Saltines, too, but I love apple sauce more. However, my happiness immediately faded when I walked in the front door. I logged onto the student job web site and got this little gem:
Your account has been disabled. Please contact your Career Services Office for additional service.
WHAT????? I just logged on last night! I just applied for a job! What do you mean I got kicked off?? What have I ever done to them? Raaaaaaaaggggeeeeee!
So, now, I have a very short period of time in which I need to take a shower, bike to school, visit the Career Service Office, try not to get angry (despite the fact that my stomach tells me otherwise), find out whether I have still applied for that job that I'm qualified for, visit the school newspaper for Copy Editor info, go to my yoga class, come home, go get worms for Esther, eat, and go back to school for my Drugs lecture. And I just spent fifteen minutes telling you all of this, dear reader, hoping that somebody has sympathy for me. This is one of those days where I need a hug.
Fun filled.
I hate complaining on this thing but, today, I really don't give a darn.
Monday, August 24, 2009
It Only Gets Better
I have had crazy first days before but today topped the cake.
(DISCLAIMER: As I'm now a Health Ed major, I'm using real terms for a person's sex parts. So, if this upsets you, you might not want to read this blog. There aren't any pornographic scenes in this blog. I just don't want people freaking out if I used the proper term for a woman' Va-JJ.)
I woke up this morning with 3 things in mind: apply for a job, visit my adviser, and visit the health center.
My first stop was was to my adviser's office, 6 stories up the 2nd tallest building on campus. I needed to make a student education plan to turn in so I could get a certain amount of money that I get every month from the government. Even though my adviser had told me she would be there early, I'm assuming my time and her time was much different because she wasn't there. I checked my watch (8:30am) and signed my name next to the next earliest time slot (9:20am), imagining that I could get to the health center and back in time. So I left and went to apply for a job on campus that had just shown up on the student employment website (and just disappeared, which makes me really ridiculously nervous). When I walked in, the lady at the front desk was extremely nice to me, helping me with the application form, but, before I could turn it in, a man came in and began to cause some problems. When I say problems, I mean he was very rude to her and inconsiderate of the fact that she was trying very hard to help him. I finished my application and no one even looked at me as I set it down on the counter, so I tip-toed out of the office, praying that they took my application and looked at it. (I'm really qualified for this job so I'm even going to go in again tomorrow just to make sure.)
Then I went to the Student Health Center. The craziness begins.
I have had quite a few "injuries" in the past week. Yesterday, I cut my thumb while cutting watermelon (and have now been asked twice if I'm current on my tetanus shots). Last Monday, I shrunk my favorite pair of slip-ons after putting them in the washing machine with towels on hot and then went on a job hunt with them on, which was a dumb idea because the back of my feet are just beginning to heal after the horrific blisters that the now-tossed shoes caused. And then there's the folliculitis, which appeared out of no where on my legs and I finally convinced myself to go into the Health Center for it. As I walked in, I checked in with the receptionist and told her what I had and she asked me to take a seat. I was called in only a few blissful minutes later and sat down with a nurse to get my weight and blood pressure and such. And then this conversation took place:
Nurse: So, Megan, how can I help you today?
Me: Well, I have folliculitis and I'd just like it to be taken care of.
Nurse: ...I see.
Me: Because, you know it's embarrassing. It's all over my legs. I cant even wear shorts.
Nurse: It's... on your legs?
Me: Ya. Look. (I pull up the leg of my jeans). Where else would it be?
Nurse: Ah. There must have been some mistake. This says you're in here for a vaginal exam.
Me: What??
We got the matter straightened out but I was still mistakened for another Megan who was there (maybe she was there for the vaginal exam but it certainly wasn't me!). By the time I got out of the Health Center it was... yes, you guessed it... 9:20. I ran all the way back to my adviser's room only to find her waiting for me without any one else around so I got that taken care of.
I went home to shower before class at 2 and took a pill for my folliculitis before I got in. It had said on the bottle that I was supposed to eat before taking a pill but me, being the dummy I am, decided that since I wasn't really hungry at the moment and had eaten at 8, I could take it without a problem. Boy, that was dumb. As I got out of the shower, I was suddenly overcome by an overwhelming urge to vomit and my stomach cramped something fierce. I sat on the floor next to the toilet for about 20 minutes, debating whether or not I really wanted to get up and dry my hair. I eventually did and, by the time I had to go to school, I was rushing.
I got my bike out the door. I locked the door. I got on my bike and put my foot on the pedal and... nothing happened. I didn't go anywhere. I looked down to realize the chain had COME OFF MY BIKE PEDALS! One glance at my watch told me that I only had about 30 minutes until I had to be at school. Parking cars at school is absolutely a no no and parking your bike... it's hard, as well. Quickly, my hands shaking like crazy, I started trying to figure out how to put my chain back on. I went by instinct because I'm not a bike person. (I've never put a bike together or fixed it or anything.) Finally the chain was on but I still stared at the bike, wondering if I put it on right. Who, honestly, looks at their bike when it's fine? So, I ran back in the house to try and clean off the grease off my hands as fast as possible and then ran back out, somehow misplacing my sunglasses along the way (but as this point I didn't care). I move my bike a few feet forward and then it made an odd rrrrrrggg sound. "Dang," I thought. "I killed it. I don't even know how it died! I just biked home 3 hours ago..." Thankfully, I bumped into one of my neighbors and he told me that everything was fine, it was just the rain guard bumping against the tire, which we fixed. I rode to school.
The day definitely looked up after that. My class today was Human Sexuality and my professor told the funniest story that I have ever heard. Apparently, one of her friends is a gynacologist and they get together occasionally to tell stories. He told her about this girl who came to him for birth control and he gave her a prescription for the pill. He expected to see her in about a year for her annual check-up but, instead, she was in 3 or 4 weeks later, with signs of being pregnant. He checked to make sure that she had been taking the pill every day, at the same time, and she had, so he was confused as to why she was pregnant if she and her boyfriend had both been using birth control. Well, it turned out that she had been following his directions, but, instead of taking it orally, she had been placing the pill inside of her vagina. Yea. Totally made my day.
Then I came home and watched this and I'm now cheered up.
(DISCLAIMER: As I'm now a Health Ed major, I'm using real terms for a person's sex parts. So, if this upsets you, you might not want to read this blog. There aren't any pornographic scenes in this blog. I just don't want people freaking out if I used the proper term for a woman' Va-JJ.)
I woke up this morning with 3 things in mind: apply for a job, visit my adviser, and visit the health center.
My first stop was was to my adviser's office, 6 stories up the 2nd tallest building on campus. I needed to make a student education plan to turn in so I could get a certain amount of money that I get every month from the government. Even though my adviser had told me she would be there early, I'm assuming my time and her time was much different because she wasn't there. I checked my watch (8:30am) and signed my name next to the next earliest time slot (9:20am), imagining that I could get to the health center and back in time. So I left and went to apply for a job on campus that had just shown up on the student employment website (and just disappeared, which makes me really ridiculously nervous). When I walked in, the lady at the front desk was extremely nice to me, helping me with the application form, but, before I could turn it in, a man came in and began to cause some problems. When I say problems, I mean he was very rude to her and inconsiderate of the fact that she was trying very hard to help him. I finished my application and no one even looked at me as I set it down on the counter, so I tip-toed out of the office, praying that they took my application and looked at it. (I'm really qualified for this job so I'm even going to go in again tomorrow just to make sure.)
Then I went to the Student Health Center. The craziness begins.
I have had quite a few "injuries" in the past week. Yesterday, I cut my thumb while cutting watermelon (and have now been asked twice if I'm current on my tetanus shots). Last Monday, I shrunk my favorite pair of slip-ons after putting them in the washing machine with towels on hot and then went on a job hunt with them on, which was a dumb idea because the back of my feet are just beginning to heal after the horrific blisters that the now-tossed shoes caused. And then there's the folliculitis, which appeared out of no where on my legs and I finally convinced myself to go into the Health Center for it. As I walked in, I checked in with the receptionist and told her what I had and she asked me to take a seat. I was called in only a few blissful minutes later and sat down with a nurse to get my weight and blood pressure and such. And then this conversation took place:
Nurse: So, Megan, how can I help you today?
Me: Well, I have folliculitis and I'd just like it to be taken care of.
Nurse: ...I see.
Me: Because, you know it's embarrassing. It's all over my legs. I cant even wear shorts.
Nurse: It's... on your legs?
Me: Ya. Look. (I pull up the leg of my jeans). Where else would it be?
Nurse: Ah. There must have been some mistake. This says you're in here for a vaginal exam.
Me: What??
We got the matter straightened out but I was still mistakened for another Megan who was there (maybe she was there for the vaginal exam but it certainly wasn't me!). By the time I got out of the Health Center it was... yes, you guessed it... 9:20. I ran all the way back to my adviser's room only to find her waiting for me without any one else around so I got that taken care of.
I went home to shower before class at 2 and took a pill for my folliculitis before I got in. It had said on the bottle that I was supposed to eat before taking a pill but me, being the dummy I am, decided that since I wasn't really hungry at the moment and had eaten at 8, I could take it without a problem. Boy, that was dumb. As I got out of the shower, I was suddenly overcome by an overwhelming urge to vomit and my stomach cramped something fierce. I sat on the floor next to the toilet for about 20 minutes, debating whether or not I really wanted to get up and dry my hair. I eventually did and, by the time I had to go to school, I was rushing.
I got my bike out the door. I locked the door. I got on my bike and put my foot on the pedal and... nothing happened. I didn't go anywhere. I looked down to realize the chain had COME OFF MY BIKE PEDALS! One glance at my watch told me that I only had about 30 minutes until I had to be at school. Parking cars at school is absolutely a no no and parking your bike... it's hard, as well. Quickly, my hands shaking like crazy, I started trying to figure out how to put my chain back on. I went by instinct because I'm not a bike person. (I've never put a bike together or fixed it or anything.) Finally the chain was on but I still stared at the bike, wondering if I put it on right. Who, honestly, looks at their bike when it's fine? So, I ran back in the house to try and clean off the grease off my hands as fast as possible and then ran back out, somehow misplacing my sunglasses along the way (but as this point I didn't care). I move my bike a few feet forward and then it made an odd rrrrrrggg sound. "Dang," I thought. "I killed it. I don't even know how it died! I just biked home 3 hours ago..." Thankfully, I bumped into one of my neighbors and he told me that everything was fine, it was just the rain guard bumping against the tire, which we fixed. I rode to school.
The day definitely looked up after that. My class today was Human Sexuality and my professor told the funniest story that I have ever heard. Apparently, one of her friends is a gynacologist and they get together occasionally to tell stories. He told her about this girl who came to him for birth control and he gave her a prescription for the pill. He expected to see her in about a year for her annual check-up but, instead, she was in 3 or 4 weeks later, with signs of being pregnant. He checked to make sure that she had been taking the pill every day, at the same time, and she had, so he was confused as to why she was pregnant if she and her boyfriend had both been using birth control. Well, it turned out that she had been following his directions, but, instead of taking it orally, she had been placing the pill inside of her vagina. Yea. Totally made my day.
Then I came home and watched this and I'm now cheered up.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Yin and Yang
Good and bad. The past 36 hours have been filled with a bit of both. But you know that little dot that floats in the middle of each?
Yea. That's the crazy.
Last night, Jo and I got together with my friend Ian and some of his friends for a continuation of my Mel Gibson movie fest. I had already watched Braveheart that afternoon (which I have never seen before) which is an awesome movie, so watching Payback that evening was kind of a downer. Not my favorite Mel Gibson movie.
The real "fun" of the night started when the brother of one of the girls accidentally locked her keys into the back of her trunk and we all spent about an hour trying to get them out. We tried looking for a spare key, finding a spare key and then discovering that it was the key to the ignition and not to the door, and using a coat hanger to break in and open the door. She even went home with her boyfriend to see if the key was at her house and I'm not sure if they were able to get into the house because the locked keys also held the key to her house. In the end, we had to call AAA, who were late (of course) and I left by the time that they even got there.
In the midst of all of this happening, I was also hit on/flirted with by a girl in the sorority that Ian lives next to. I'll have to admit that it was my first time and a little... disturbing. She sort of stopped once she hit on Jo and then he mentioned that he was dating me. But, it didn't stop her from saying that, despite the fact that she has a boyfriend, she thinks the whole point of getting drunk is to make out with chicks, which isn't technically cheating.
Yea.
Anyway, I woke today in anticipation of finding a job. I was bound determined to get back on my feet again. Which is the opposite of what I wanted to do when I got to the school... because, let's face it: when you wash your favorite pair of slip-ons on the hot cycle with your sheets and towels, they're bound to shrink. Which makes feet hurt and creates large blisters. Not very fun. I started noticing the pain as I was walking to apply as a Copy Editor to the college newspaper (update on that after 5pm tomorrow!) and, by the time that I headed out of there towards two job opportunities, I was wincing in pain. One opportunity was to work in a children's clothing store and, when I got there, they admitted that they had already hired someone YESTERDAY and had forgotten to take the ad off the college job search. Yeah. The other job was working as a helper (writing, reading) for disabled students and she had already hired enough people but told me to come back Friday (in case someone decided to cancel) because I mentioned that I had my minor in English.
So, I admit... by the time I got home, my feet were in pain due to large blisters on my heels and I had failed yet again at finding a job, and I wanted to do was cry. Which I did. (Being a girl really helps on this front, by the way, because one can cry and their boyfriend just lets them do it because we girls are allowed to release our emotion in a salty wave of tears.) BUT!!! I was immediately cheered up when the mail came because my wonderful grandparents send me $500 to get me through the rest of the month.
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!
So, that's my conclusion for the good, the bad, and the crazy.
Yea. That's the crazy.
Last night, Jo and I got together with my friend Ian and some of his friends for a continuation of my Mel Gibson movie fest. I had already watched Braveheart that afternoon (which I have never seen before) which is an awesome movie, so watching Payback that evening was kind of a downer. Not my favorite Mel Gibson movie.
The real "fun" of the night started when the brother of one of the girls accidentally locked her keys into the back of her trunk and we all spent about an hour trying to get them out. We tried looking for a spare key, finding a spare key and then discovering that it was the key to the ignition and not to the door, and using a coat hanger to break in and open the door. She even went home with her boyfriend to see if the key was at her house and I'm not sure if they were able to get into the house because the locked keys also held the key to her house. In the end, we had to call AAA, who were late (of course) and I left by the time that they even got there.
In the midst of all of this happening, I was also hit on/flirted with by a girl in the sorority that Ian lives next to. I'll have to admit that it was my first time and a little... disturbing. She sort of stopped once she hit on Jo and then he mentioned that he was dating me. But, it didn't stop her from saying that, despite the fact that she has a boyfriend, she thinks the whole point of getting drunk is to make out with chicks, which isn't technically cheating.
Yea.
Anyway, I woke today in anticipation of finding a job. I was bound determined to get back on my feet again. Which is the opposite of what I wanted to do when I got to the school... because, let's face it: when you wash your favorite pair of slip-ons on the hot cycle with your sheets and towels, they're bound to shrink. Which makes feet hurt and creates large blisters. Not very fun. I started noticing the pain as I was walking to apply as a Copy Editor to the college newspaper (update on that after 5pm tomorrow!) and, by the time that I headed out of there towards two job opportunities, I was wincing in pain. One opportunity was to work in a children's clothing store and, when I got there, they admitted that they had already hired someone YESTERDAY and had forgotten to take the ad off the college job search. Yeah. The other job was working as a helper (writing, reading) for disabled students and she had already hired enough people but told me to come back Friday (in case someone decided to cancel) because I mentioned that I had my minor in English.
So, I admit... by the time I got home, my feet were in pain due to large blisters on my heels and I had failed yet again at finding a job, and I wanted to do was cry. Which I did. (Being a girl really helps on this front, by the way, because one can cry and their boyfriend just lets them do it because we girls are allowed to release our emotion in a salty wave of tears.) BUT!!! I was immediately cheered up when the mail came because my wonderful grandparents send me $500 to get me through the rest of the month.
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!
So, that's my conclusion for the good, the bad, and the crazy.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Intolerant
This is my last real day at my aunt and uncle's house and it is yet another day where I wake up with some crazy adventure due to Mary and Zac.
This morning, I was attempting to stay asleep with loud voices coming from Mary's bedroom (or loud voice because Zac talks like he's standing in the middle of a concert at 8 in the morning) when I hear this:
Zac: And then you can work at daddy's restaurant and make a lots of money and buy tons of cars and...
So I got up, not bothering to put my glasses on, and padded over to Mary's bedroom. Zac looked up at me and I had the inclination that he probably looked a bit worried but I couldn't see. They forget that I've been sleeping in the living room for the past two weeks.
Me: Zachary, are you telling Mary to work at daddy's restaurant?
Zac (in his matter of fact way): Well, Mary gave me her money and I told her that if she wanted to make more money, she could...
Me: You took Mary's money again?
Zac: She gave it to me.
Mary: I gave it to him.
Me: Why?
Silence.
Me: Ok, Zac, you need to give Mary back her money. And you need to earn your own money, not trick your sister into giving her money to you. That's bad. Understand that?
Zac: Well, she... she wanted a car so I told her that if she gave me her money I...
Me: No. You need to give her money back to her now.
Mary (wailing): he doesn't have it with him!!!!
Me: Do you know where the money is? Good. Go get it.
He returns with it.
Me: Ok, now, tell me again why Mary should work at daddy's restaurant?
Zac (cautiously now): Well... I was telling her that... if she wanted to make more money...
Me: Zac, she's FIVE. She wont be working at daddy's restaurant for a long time!
Zac (refuses to look at me even though I asked him to): Yea.......
Me: Ok, well, you need to let Mary buy her own cars and you need to earn your own money. Mary, you need to put that money away.
Mary: Well, the bottom of my flamingo bank is gone and...
Me: I already told you that I would put tape on the bottom of it.
Mary: Well, if we put paper AND tape then...
And hence, my morning went forth in the same type of way. I'm happy and sad that I'm leaving these two. Happy that I will be able to sleep in when I get home but sad that I'll miss putting these blog posts up for all of you to read.
On the flip side of this, I've discovered that I am lactose intolerant. This started when I moved up north and Jo and I visited Baskin Robbins (because we didn't have one where i used to live and it was my favorite ice cream place as a kid) and I started getting naucious from the ice cream. I bought some lactose pills and they seem to help a little but not that much. Especially this morning, when I didn't take a pill to see how milk and cereal would affect me and I feel sick. So it looks like my newest adventure is finding calcium that isn't in dairy products. Which sucks because I am a major fan of cheese. Oh well... :(
This morning, I was attempting to stay asleep with loud voices coming from Mary's bedroom (or loud voice because Zac talks like he's standing in the middle of a concert at 8 in the morning) when I hear this:
Zac: And then you can work at daddy's restaurant and make a lots of money and buy tons of cars and...
So I got up, not bothering to put my glasses on, and padded over to Mary's bedroom. Zac looked up at me and I had the inclination that he probably looked a bit worried but I couldn't see. They forget that I've been sleeping in the living room for the past two weeks.
Me: Zachary, are you telling Mary to work at daddy's restaurant?
Zac (in his matter of fact way): Well, Mary gave me her money and I told her that if she wanted to make more money, she could...
Me: You took Mary's money again?
Zac: She gave it to me.
Mary: I gave it to him.
Me: Why?
Silence.
Me: Ok, Zac, you need to give Mary back her money. And you need to earn your own money, not trick your sister into giving her money to you. That's bad. Understand that?
Zac: Well, she... she wanted a car so I told her that if she gave me her money I...
Me: No. You need to give her money back to her now.
Mary (wailing): he doesn't have it with him!!!!
Me: Do you know where the money is? Good. Go get it.
He returns with it.
Me: Ok, now, tell me again why Mary should work at daddy's restaurant?
Zac (cautiously now): Well... I was telling her that... if she wanted to make more money...
Me: Zac, she's FIVE. She wont be working at daddy's restaurant for a long time!
Zac (refuses to look at me even though I asked him to): Yea.......
Me: Ok, well, you need to let Mary buy her own cars and you need to earn your own money. Mary, you need to put that money away.
Mary: Well, the bottom of my flamingo bank is gone and...
Me: I already told you that I would put tape on the bottom of it.
Mary: Well, if we put paper AND tape then...
And hence, my morning went forth in the same type of way. I'm happy and sad that I'm leaving these two. Happy that I will be able to sleep in when I get home but sad that I'll miss putting these blog posts up for all of you to read.
On the flip side of this, I've discovered that I am lactose intolerant. This started when I moved up north and Jo and I visited Baskin Robbins (because we didn't have one where i used to live and it was my favorite ice cream place as a kid) and I started getting naucious from the ice cream. I bought some lactose pills and they seem to help a little but not that much. Especially this morning, when I didn't take a pill to see how milk and cereal would affect me and I feel sick. So it looks like my newest adventure is finding calcium that isn't in dairy products. Which sucks because I am a major fan of cheese. Oh well... :(
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