Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I just can't get enough of...
...Jason Mraz's song "I'm Yours." Seriously. Can a song BE any better, even with all that radio play? I don't think so.
Monday, November 17, 2008
It's 11:11...
...and I am sitting at International Delights for the third time this week, working on things I need to finish before the big day in just TWO days. Surgery.
I have so much to do before then, including make time for people I want to see before everything happens and I am not as mobile as I like, including a 30-minute presentation on Realism and the Global War on Terror, a test in GOVT 502: Quantitative Research Methods, blood work, three more articles for the newspaper and four interviews to complete. Where will I find the time?
I am getting pretty nervous about the whole surgery thing. It consumes most of my thoughts and I feel like something is coming to an end just thinking about it. I'm not sure what that means except that for the past few weeks, my knee has felt better (not stellar) but better, and now I will go back to being virtually immobile, relying on pain meds to get me through the day.
Gah--I am just worried about it, I guess. So I guess that's it for the night. Time to go home and salvage a bit of sleep, if I can get it after four cups of coffee.
I have so much to do before then, including make time for people I want to see before everything happens and I am not as mobile as I like, including a 30-minute presentation on Realism and the Global War on Terror, a test in GOVT 502: Quantitative Research Methods, blood work, three more articles for the newspaper and four interviews to complete. Where will I find the time?
I am getting pretty nervous about the whole surgery thing. It consumes most of my thoughts and I feel like something is coming to an end just thinking about it. I'm not sure what that means except that for the past few weeks, my knee has felt better (not stellar) but better, and now I will go back to being virtually immobile, relying on pain meds to get me through the day.
Gah--I am just worried about it, I guess. So I guess that's it for the night. Time to go home and salvage a bit of sleep, if I can get it after four cups of coffee.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Five Weeks of Progress and Setbacks
It's been a while.
Five weeks, to be exact.
I know this because I check Jessica's blog roll on a regular basis and I have been watching my previous post sink lower and lower until it is sitting on the bottom of a few of my favorite blogs.
This is unacceptable...especially since I have had an INSANE five weeks to speak of.
On Oct. 22, I had the worst day of my life (and very karma-oriented). The only Wednesday soccer game of the season was that night and I normally have class, but instead I decided to take the night off and play soccer. The game started rather normally--we were losing, but I was having fun and getting some exercise. On no particular play, I planted my left foot to change directions, while pushing off of it to go the other way. The foot stayed planted and my knee went with my body. After hearing (and feeling) a resounding "POP," I doubled over.
I couldn't do anything but not breathe and lay there, sobbing. I was in the middle of the field, crying like a baby. I knew something big was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
It took a long time to get myself to the point that I could even move. I was paralyzed. I couldn't move a single muscle. I had to be carried off the field...I couldn't even hop. I have never felt that level of pain in my life.
The only thing I could think was, "Please, no one call an ambulance. I can't afford an ambulance."
The woman watching from the sidelines said she heard the pop and knew it wasn't just sprained. She wrapped me up in a blanket, put some ice on my knee and sat with me, telling me to calm down and breathe while the rest of the team finished the game.
I didn't want to go to the hospital. I wanted to go home and cry... be a baby on my own terms, in the privacy of my own home. But I let her talk me into going to the emergency room, then called my brother to come meet me and drive my car.
Michelle helped me into my car and drove me to MountainView while my brother picked up my Aunt Pam and met me at the hospital emergency room. Meanwhile, my friend Bre was calling me and I answered, clearly shaken up. Being the great friend that I know and love, she met me at the hospital, blanket and magazines in hand. We waited there for an unreasonably long time, three hours, just to be treated like crap by the tech who talked to Bre like she was a child and who treated me like an idiot when I couldn't walk on the crutches properly.
*On a side note: People may argue that Grey's Anatomy creates a false sense of how hot doctors can be, but I assert that they speak the truth. In the ER that night, while I was looking like hell with mascara smeared on my cheeks, smelly jersey smell and looking like a hot mess, were three of the cutest guys I have come across in my years here in Las Cruces. All three tall, handsome, doctors...McDreamy, McSteamy and McSexy.
*End Side Note
McSexy looked at my knee, gave me some bull about it being a little loose, but couldn't get me in for an MRI because I wasn't "emergent." I was stuck with a knee immobilizing brace, crutches, an order for an MRI and a prescription for Vicodin. At 1 a.m., I limped out of the ER and into a waiting car, completely angry that I sat in the ER for nothing. By this time, I was doubting even myself on whether there was something actually wrong with me. I felt like I was just being a weenie, that it was simply a sprain and that all the struggle was just in my head.
Pam and Jono dropped me off at home, with my Vicodin, and tucked me into bed. I took a whole pill and fell into an uncomfortable sleep, setting my alarm for early since I was still having to get up and go to school to proctor an exam and the professor I assist was out of town.
I woke up with the alarm, incredulous that most of the night before had actually happened. I hobbled around my apartment quite awkwardly, and turned on the shower. I got undressed and gingerly got in, using the built-in handles that were conveniently placed inside the shower for moments such as this. As I stepped in under the warm water and lathered up my hair with shampoo, I felt faint. I fell out of the shower, onto the bathroom floor, hitting the right side of my chest on God knows what, tasting the soap that had dripped from my head onto my lips and thinking to myself, "You have to rinse off. Get up."
I picked myself up off the floor, giving myself a pep talk all the way up, with awkward movements, trying to avoid the debilitating pain in my knee. I stood upright, attempting to rinse my hair out so I could get out of the shower and get back in bed. Instead, I went down again, this time scraping my back on the corner of the vanity, holding the shower curtain in my hands and sobbing, again telling myself, "You can do it. Just get up."
I did, and felt a little better. I rinsed my hair out, turned the now cold shower off, then toweled off and hobbled to my bed and curled up. I called Pam, sobbing, as she tried to reassure me the best she could. I thought about the medicine I had taken and realized I took the pain pills on an empty stomach, which led to the episode in the shower. I grabbed a bag of gold fish, munching on them until I regained a sense of normalcy.
I got ready for class, waiting for Jono to pick me up. I went to class, proctored the exam and crutched my way upstairs, where I crumbled in a fit of exhaustion and complete depression over the entire situation. I was in pain, I was whiny, I was no fun to be around, so I called Jono and had him come pick me up to take me home. He bought be a burrito and dropped me off at my house, where I fell into a pain killer-induced sleep.
The next day, I underwent an MRI and on Monday, found out from a phenomenal Dr. Wayne Lindsey that I had torn my Anterior Cruciate Ligament (ACL) and damaged my miniscus. I would have to undergo surgery in the coming weeks, when the swelling went down, to have it repaired.
The surgery happens next Thursday, Nov. 20, and I have never been more nervous about anything in my life. It's not the surgery itself, because that's more procedural and they do these sort of things all the time. It's that I will be out of commission for days afterwards. Worse than hobbling around my apartment...this time there will be screws and cadaver ligaments involved, along with physical therapy and a recovery time of three to six months. So, the fear is not in being cut open, it's in being a normal, functioning adult after the big day.
Setbacks are sometimes the universe's way of saying, "Slow down. I'm in charge." Well, universe--you got me where you want me.
Five weeks, to be exact.
I know this because I check Jessica's blog roll on a regular basis and I have been watching my previous post sink lower and lower until it is sitting on the bottom of a few of my favorite blogs.
This is unacceptable...especially since I have had an INSANE five weeks to speak of.
On Oct. 22, I had the worst day of my life (and very karma-oriented). The only Wednesday soccer game of the season was that night and I normally have class, but instead I decided to take the night off and play soccer. The game started rather normally--we were losing, but I was having fun and getting some exercise. On no particular play, I planted my left foot to change directions, while pushing off of it to go the other way. The foot stayed planted and my knee went with my body. After hearing (and feeling) a resounding "POP," I doubled over.
I couldn't do anything but not breathe and lay there, sobbing. I was in the middle of the field, crying like a baby. I knew something big was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
It took a long time to get myself to the point that I could even move. I was paralyzed. I couldn't move a single muscle. I had to be carried off the field...I couldn't even hop. I have never felt that level of pain in my life.
The only thing I could think was, "Please, no one call an ambulance. I can't afford an ambulance."
The woman watching from the sidelines said she heard the pop and knew it wasn't just sprained. She wrapped me up in a blanket, put some ice on my knee and sat with me, telling me to calm down and breathe while the rest of the team finished the game.
I didn't want to go to the hospital. I wanted to go home and cry... be a baby on my own terms, in the privacy of my own home. But I let her talk me into going to the emergency room, then called my brother to come meet me and drive my car.
Michelle helped me into my car and drove me to MountainView while my brother picked up my Aunt Pam and met me at the hospital emergency room. Meanwhile, my friend Bre was calling me and I answered, clearly shaken up. Being the great friend that I know and love, she met me at the hospital, blanket and magazines in hand. We waited there for an unreasonably long time, three hours, just to be treated like crap by the tech who talked to Bre like she was a child and who treated me like an idiot when I couldn't walk on the crutches properly.
*On a side note: People may argue that Grey's Anatomy creates a false sense of how hot doctors can be, but I assert that they speak the truth. In the ER that night, while I was looking like hell with mascara smeared on my cheeks, smelly jersey smell and looking like a hot mess, were three of the cutest guys I have come across in my years here in Las Cruces. All three tall, handsome, doctors...McDreamy, McSteamy and McSexy.
*End Side Note
McSexy looked at my knee, gave me some bull about it being a little loose, but couldn't get me in for an MRI because I wasn't "emergent." I was stuck with a knee immobilizing brace, crutches, an order for an MRI and a prescription for Vicodin. At 1 a.m., I limped out of the ER and into a waiting car, completely angry that I sat in the ER for nothing. By this time, I was doubting even myself on whether there was something actually wrong with me. I felt like I was just being a weenie, that it was simply a sprain and that all the struggle was just in my head.
Pam and Jono dropped me off at home, with my Vicodin, and tucked me into bed. I took a whole pill and fell into an uncomfortable sleep, setting my alarm for early since I was still having to get up and go to school to proctor an exam and the professor I assist was out of town.
I woke up with the alarm, incredulous that most of the night before had actually happened. I hobbled around my apartment quite awkwardly, and turned on the shower. I got undressed and gingerly got in, using the built-in handles that were conveniently placed inside the shower for moments such as this. As I stepped in under the warm water and lathered up my hair with shampoo, I felt faint. I fell out of the shower, onto the bathroom floor, hitting the right side of my chest on God knows what, tasting the soap that had dripped from my head onto my lips and thinking to myself, "You have to rinse off. Get up."
I picked myself up off the floor, giving myself a pep talk all the way up, with awkward movements, trying to avoid the debilitating pain in my knee. I stood upright, attempting to rinse my hair out so I could get out of the shower and get back in bed. Instead, I went down again, this time scraping my back on the corner of the vanity, holding the shower curtain in my hands and sobbing, again telling myself, "You can do it. Just get up."
I did, and felt a little better. I rinsed my hair out, turned the now cold shower off, then toweled off and hobbled to my bed and curled up. I called Pam, sobbing, as she tried to reassure me the best she could. I thought about the medicine I had taken and realized I took the pain pills on an empty stomach, which led to the episode in the shower. I grabbed a bag of gold fish, munching on them until I regained a sense of normalcy.
I got ready for class, waiting for Jono to pick me up. I went to class, proctored the exam and crutched my way upstairs, where I crumbled in a fit of exhaustion and complete depression over the entire situation. I was in pain, I was whiny, I was no fun to be around, so I called Jono and had him come pick me up to take me home. He bought be a burrito and dropped me off at my house, where I fell into a pain killer-induced sleep.
The next day, I underwent an MRI and on Monday, found out from a phenomenal Dr. Wayne Lindsey that I had torn my Anterior Cruciate Ligament (ACL) and damaged my miniscus. I would have to undergo surgery in the coming weeks, when the swelling went down, to have it repaired.
The surgery happens next Thursday, Nov. 20, and I have never been more nervous about anything in my life. It's not the surgery itself, because that's more procedural and they do these sort of things all the time. It's that I will be out of commission for days afterwards. Worse than hobbling around my apartment...this time there will be screws and cadaver ligaments involved, along with physical therapy and a recovery time of three to six months. So, the fear is not in being cut open, it's in being a normal, functioning adult after the big day.
Setbacks are sometimes the universe's way of saying, "Slow down. I'm in charge." Well, universe--you got me where you want me.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
More than I can handle.
Sometimes I feel like I can't focus. It's not just the being too busy thing, it's the being too busy and not knowing when to say "no" thing. I can't help but think I could be doing so much more in any one area of my life. For example, when I am putting out a stellar section, talking to people and really getting things done at work, my school work seems to suffer. And when I am really getting my reading done and excelling in school, my section suffers. It's so hard to find a happy medium between the two.
I think this problem stems from the fact that I wasn't able to find a happy medium with the job before I started school and now that I am all the way into it, it's getting harder and harder to keep my head above water. Now, mid-terms are upon me and I am wondering how to balance class reading, writing for the paper and studying.
The obvious answer would be to give something up, but I am not willing to seek that answer at this point. I just need a bit more time in the day and everything will be fine. And maybe a little more drive.
I think this problem stems from the fact that I wasn't able to find a happy medium with the job before I started school and now that I am all the way into it, it's getting harder and harder to keep my head above water. Now, mid-terms are upon me and I am wondering how to balance class reading, writing for the paper and studying.
The obvious answer would be to give something up, but I am not willing to seek that answer at this point. I just need a bit more time in the day and everything will be fine. And maybe a little more drive.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Crunch
Today I felt it. Fall is in the air.
As I began to clean my house, putting rugs outside to air out, I was shocked to discover that there it was. That one point in the year where you can feel the air begin to change.
This is my absolute favorite time of year--festivals, sweaters and the crunch of leaves beneath my feet. I am so happy, I could die!
As I began to clean my house, putting rugs outside to air out, I was shocked to discover that there it was. That one point in the year where you can feel the air begin to change.
This is my absolute favorite time of year--festivals, sweaters and the crunch of leaves beneath my feet. I am so happy, I could die!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
My life as a metaphor
When life gets a little stressful, I have a recurring dream.
Today, I decided to analyze it in my head. It's a dream about working at Cracker Barrel again. As all of two of my readers know, I worked there for five years until they hired a bat shit crazy manager and I had to bounce.
Well, my dream is about me going back to work there amid many, many changes. In my dream, the kitchen has actually been remodeled - there are walls where there weren't walls before and I can't find anything because nothing is in its original spot, etc. Well, in last night's dream, I am given my original four-table, kick ass section, but for some reason, I can't seem to keep on top of them. I like to think I am a really good server, especially when I am busy, but in the dream, I am so busy serving the round table, then bouncing back and forth to two more, but constantly ignoring the fourth table. And in the dream, it happens over and over, with the tables complaining about my service and how I can't get to them fast enough.
I have decided this is a metaphor for my life. The four tables represent the four areas of my life (I am sure there are more than four, but bear with me). We have the work life, the school life, the love life and the social life. As a metaphor, that means that I am constantly ignoring one aspect at all times...and it may not always be the same one (although ignoring the love life is by choice - have you seen what I have to work with in this town?). I feel like I can't catch up no matter how hard I try.
I equate this dream with the common one - you know the one - where you are running from something and so fast and so hard, but no matter how fast or hard you are running, you can escape. This goes for swimming, too... All of them are metaphors for how your life is going and this dream is a metaphor for mine.
Honestly, I am getting the hang of the new life I have begun living - with the balance of school and work and freelance and studying, all finally coming together - but there are still portions of my life that should have some focus, but have a back seat. So, to my friends I have neglected, I am sorry. Things will get better. They have to. In the meantime, bear with me and I love you.
Today, I decided to analyze it in my head. It's a dream about working at Cracker Barrel again. As all of two of my readers know, I worked there for five years until they hired a bat shit crazy manager and I had to bounce.
Well, my dream is about me going back to work there amid many, many changes. In my dream, the kitchen has actually been remodeled - there are walls where there weren't walls before and I can't find anything because nothing is in its original spot, etc. Well, in last night's dream, I am given my original four-table, kick ass section, but for some reason, I can't seem to keep on top of them. I like to think I am a really good server, especially when I am busy, but in the dream, I am so busy serving the round table, then bouncing back and forth to two more, but constantly ignoring the fourth table. And in the dream, it happens over and over, with the tables complaining about my service and how I can't get to them fast enough.
I have decided this is a metaphor for my life. The four tables represent the four areas of my life (I am sure there are more than four, but bear with me). We have the work life, the school life, the love life and the social life. As a metaphor, that means that I am constantly ignoring one aspect at all times...and it may not always be the same one (although ignoring the love life is by choice - have you seen what I have to work with in this town?). I feel like I can't catch up no matter how hard I try.
I equate this dream with the common one - you know the one - where you are running from something and so fast and so hard, but no matter how fast or hard you are running, you can escape. This goes for swimming, too... All of them are metaphors for how your life is going and this dream is a metaphor for mine.
Honestly, I am getting the hang of the new life I have begun living - with the balance of school and work and freelance and studying, all finally coming together - but there are still portions of my life that should have some focus, but have a back seat. So, to my friends I have neglected, I am sorry. Things will get better. They have to. In the meantime, bear with me and I love you.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Assignment Complete
Today was a killer day. Busy, but killer.
I met the rest of the graduate assistants today at an orientation for the government department. I also found out I was paired with an awesome professor, helping teach European Politics and National Security Policy.
Recently, I was awarded the Mike Watts Fellowship worth $2,000, added to my salary as a G.A., which is significant when you only make $5,000 a semester. I am STOKED! And I guess it's really prestigious, too.
We practiced tonight and I am back in boot camp, hoping to lose some more weight.
This weekend, I will be attending the Community Foundation Ball, getting all dressed up and drinking champagne, dancing and enjoying the company of my coworkers. I am pretty excited about it.
Well, hopefully I will have more time to blog this weekend. It's funny because I have something happen and I think to myself, "I need to blog about that," then I forget. Like tonight, I would love to bitch about how people don't know how to use a four-way stop. It could be because I am from Deming, and we only used to have three stoplights, but it's not difficult! Not at all.....
That's all for now. Peace!
I met the rest of the graduate assistants today at an orientation for the government department. I also found out I was paired with an awesome professor, helping teach European Politics and National Security Policy.
Recently, I was awarded the Mike Watts Fellowship worth $2,000, added to my salary as a G.A., which is significant when you only make $5,000 a semester. I am STOKED! And I guess it's really prestigious, too.
We practiced tonight and I am back in boot camp, hoping to lose some more weight.
This weekend, I will be attending the Community Foundation Ball, getting all dressed up and drinking champagne, dancing and enjoying the company of my coworkers. I am pretty excited about it.
Well, hopefully I will have more time to blog this weekend. It's funny because I have something happen and I think to myself, "I need to blog about that," then I forget. Like tonight, I would love to bitch about how people don't know how to use a four-way stop. It could be because I am from Deming, and we only used to have three stoplights, but it's not difficult! Not at all.....
That's all for now. Peace!
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Have I always been this lame?
Answer: No. Not until I had this job/life.
So, I started a new job two weeks ago (shortly after I lost my other one. 2.5 days to be exact). So far, it has been non-stop and I feel like I have worked there for ages. But, already I have begun networking and really stepping outside of my comfort zone to make sure I can get the job done.
It's also amazing how motivating a firm deadline can be. I have written more stories int he two weeks I have worked at the newspaper than I did in six months at the magazine. It's amazing.
All-in-all, I am stoked to be starting a new chapter, away from the "bad" and into the good. School will begin next week, along with a bunch of new adventures and new stress, but I am ready. As ready as I will ever be.
So, I started a new job two weeks ago (shortly after I lost my other one. 2.5 days to be exact). So far, it has been non-stop and I feel like I have worked there for ages. But, already I have begun networking and really stepping outside of my comfort zone to make sure I can get the job done.
It's also amazing how motivating a firm deadline can be. I have written more stories int he two weeks I have worked at the newspaper than I did in six months at the magazine. It's amazing.
All-in-all, I am stoked to be starting a new chapter, away from the "bad" and into the good. School will begin next week, along with a bunch of new adventures and new stress, but I am ready. As ready as I will ever be.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Exhausted.
Example: This morning, when I got out of the shower, I went to use my makeup remover and was puzzled when it stung a little and smelled funny. Don't worry...I grabbed the nailpolish remover.
I hope things die down before I actually damage myself.
I hope things die down before I actually damage myself.
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