One of those Kitchen Table days…

My dear non-existant audience, I do not want to write about corn any longer. This is procrastination at its finest.

I really have nothing that exciting to write about. I have basically spent the last week studying, sleeping, or working. That said, we put on a pretty good FNBS this Friday, if I do say so myself. Not quite the turn out of last comp, but we had over 50 competitors and even pulled off a Dyno comp (without busting any of the new crap holds!). It was a long couple days getting it together… 20 hours of work on my part, but was a good time none the less.

In other news, appointments are upon me. (You didnt really think I would make it even half way through a post without talking about medical crap, did you?) I see neuro on thursday and GI on friday. Thanks to my lovely mother, I get to stay in a hotel in Denver overnight so that I dont have to drive back and forth. Saves my lovely car some miles, too. Im a little nervous about the neuro appointment, just because it is new territory for me. Im trying not to think about it that much though. I figure I just have to speak up for myself and make sure things get looked into. As far as GI, thats old news. Interested to see what the next step is, since I so obviously failed the entocort attempt.

I also have another point of nerves… Im considering audtioning for the Vagina Monologues here at school… While not a subject I normally would want to be on stage talking about, I really do miss regular old Neuqua Monologue show, and unless we set up another poetry slam, Im guessing there wont be another opportunity to be on stage for a while. The flip side, though, is that I know the director already, form Beginning Acting. Shes a total jerk face (for jerk face, read long list of expletives). I really dislike her. A lot. She told me, because I was asking to make up work from when I was sick, that I was the disgrace of the Honors Program. I definitely spent time walking near the Fine Arts building when I had my NG tube in hopes of making her feel guilty (I do have scruples, I promise… but she was really mean).

And another tangent to that, I really want to get writing again. I started having some good words walking to my genetics exam last week. I was going to be studying on the bus, but upon opening my backpack, I didnt find my notebook, but rather 2 quick draws, an ATC, and a grigri. Awesome for studying. Anyway! The only downside is that I didnt have time to get anything written down, as I was walking to an exam, and what I did come up with was rather cliche… one of those “This is for…” sort of poems, but in a medical sort of sense. Some lines like: This is for the ones I can talk to when I dont know when to be upset, laugh, or cry because I was told for the fifth time today “At least you look healthy…” And they not only know exactly how I feel, but know exactly what to say, spinning a text my way just saying “We so pretty” Smiley face. The ones I can have discussions with about withholding my urges to tell everyone on facebook complaining of their cold or their flu to just suck it up, because theyll go back to their normal healthy lives days after, while we sit here in our normal state of pain and discomfort, For the support group mom’s I ask advice like Id ask my own mother, the kids I think of as siblings, the strongest siblings I have ever had, the family I find in those who understand….
Not that good, I know. Maybe something will come to me. Maybe it wont. The brain fog has been heavy lately, and Im hoping cooler temps will start getting it to dissipate.

I dont know why writing is so helpful in sorting things out. I should really probably be going to bed about now, so that I wont die tomorrow trying to get to Plant Bio… but Im compelled to stay. Id love to get into some philosophical discussion with myself and really get my brain moving, but I honestly dont know how much I can do.

Ill end with a story.

One of the best nights I have ever had was between my Junior and Senior years of high school. I was on my annual trip to Vermont, to visit one of my best friends. I have an amazing skill of having best friends that live vast distances from me… I guess my being so resistant to change helps me keep friends close in those circumstances. It just so happened that my other best friend was on a cross country college visiting road trip during my visit, and wound up visiting University of Vermont about half way through my stay. After a university tour in the morning, we wound up, all three of us, my two best friends who had never met, walking along the lake. That night we went to a Lake Monsters baseball game. Afterwards, we went back to have a bonfire, but realized we were still too close to people to see the stars like we wanted too. We wound up driving to an elementary school and playing on the playground, talking, listening to music, star gazing, and absorbing every moment of feeling so alive. We wound up laying across the top of the monkey bars, watching for shooting stars and soaking up the Milky Way. The field across from us was full of lightning bugs, and I was so content with my place in the universe. I felt so loved, so comfortable, so happy in a place I had never been, with people I cannot separate myself from.
Then, wham. I went to get off the monkey bars by dropping down backwards, hanging by my knees. As it turns out, there was a big metal bar right where my head wound up. Even through the couple tears I unwittingly shed, I still felt the love, though.

I always have a hard time going back to memories like that. It either winds up giving me a reason to keep pushing, or gets me stuck in a cycle of nostalgia, wishing to leave now and to sit back in those times where I felt so alive and so okay with that. Back when, even though I was sick, I could focus on school or sports or my latest social anxieties, when I wasnt so responsible for myself, when everything wasnt in my hands, when I had a safety net around me constantly, instead of having a 1000 mile drop. Sometimes I just want to go back to when I wasnt so aware.

 

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“If someone told me that I could live my life again free of depression provided I was willing to give up the gifts depression has given me–the depth of awareness, the expanded consciousness, the increased sensitivity, the awareness of limitation, the tenderness of love, the meaning of friendship, the apreciation of life, the joy of a passionate heart–I would say, ‘This is a Faustian bargain! Give me my depressions. Let the darkness descend. But do not take away the gifts that depression, with the help of some unseen hand, has dredged up from the deep ocean of my soul and strewn along the shores of my life. I can endure darkness if I must; but I cannot live without these gifts. I cannot live without my soul.”” -Elkins