Anniversaries rarely pass without some means of reflection - ironically, the more elusive and meaningless the event - the more prone I am to remembering it. Often these anniversaries are notched into my timeline via something appropriately inane - like, oh man, the day time awards are on tonight?? wow, this time last year I totally put a new crank arm on my bike - I can't believe its already been a year, jeez - totally still shifts like a dream - and every subsequent year I'll think about this crank arm when I hear about the daytime awards. The reflections become more intense in a directly proportional manner to time passed - several years and my crank arm will serve as a springboard for, woah I can totally ride X distance X amount faster - and all the other new equipment I have invested in, the jobs Ive been through and stressed over while riding, all the states I rode in, etc etc...
Besides real holidays and birthdays, its dawned on me that this weekend marked possibly my first worthwhile anniversary. The infamous, most fantastic of all music fests, Gathering of the Vibes - went down in Bridgeport, CT...(and I am very *very* sad to say I missed it).
Last year, The Vibes served as my last days as a New Englander, it subsequently served as the simultaneous best and worst days of my life. I distinctly remember delivering my last hug in a hotel parking lot, clinging, and crying way harder than anything a 13 year old girl could produce, and having no idea how I was going to get in my car, drive away, and permanently seal off this chapter of my life. The 14 hour drive south sucked. a lot. I cried. a lot. I couldn't began to fathom what in the hell was next, grad school remained a phantom intangible concept - I had yet to even meet my roommate, see my condo etc. Uprooting and starting from scratch, and having 14 hours in a stuffy car with a litter box in the backseat, to think of nothing else but this mystery future sitting in front of you, your best friends and familiar life behind you, with your drugged cat meowing like its dying beside you, is quite honestly - *unpleasant and unrecommended*
Since Vibes of '08, I learned the ropes of my first year, successfully made it through my classes, joined a lab, bought a scooter, selling the scooter, bought a motorcycle, lost two feet of small bowel, spent five months in the hospital, revisited Massachusetts, NY, Virginia, Bermuda and soon I'll be in Montana. Ive taken the hardest tests of my life, completed homework that would make grown men weep, and two months of intense labor produced a paper that nearly killed me. I gotta say, this was one of the more lively years of my life. And I hope next year, I'll be celebrating two years of grad school under my belt, back at the Vibes, with the friends from Massachusetts that I'm still torn up over having left.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
how to procrastinate. free expert advice. (now updated!)
Maybe you've been writing a paper for a month, and maybe for the past two weeks you have only had to finish the very last section that would take a day's worth of concentrated hard writing.
So its Sunday, your PI returns on Thursday, and you know she is expecting this review you started writing from what feels like birth. (How surprised the doctors were as you exited your mothers uterus with a mini type writer just a tappin' away about DAMPs and fibrosis.)
Your week is looking really busy, so Sunday is kind of the last day to really have giant swaths of time to do nothing but focus solely on writing. So here is how I recommend preparing for a day of intense uninterrupted writing:
First, sleep in until noon. No way to mentally kick off your day like dragging yourself out of bed in the afternoon feeling like you've been hit by a bus. This should be followed by strawberry waffles and an episode of little house on the prairie. On every commercial break, explain to your boyfriend that you absolutely must leave. like. this is it. you really gotta go. But oh.my.god. I think Laura's brother in law is dying. Sad shit.
(interesting tidbit, Shannon Doherty played a little girl on that show - your bf will probably try and argue with you and tell you that it is so not her -but don't worry, after checking on IMDB, you are right as usual)
So when little house on the prairie is over (a whole hour for these episodes too, really) - somehow time has slipped into 2pm. and then Gladiator actually has the gall to come on. So as you are saying goodbye - slowly, find yourself sinking back into the couch, eyes glazed, mouth slack... Gladiator is a stronger timesuck than little house on the prairie, imagine.
2:45 pm - yes. You are now off the couch, but you should probably smoke a clove before you actually hit the road.
3:05pm - Finally, you get the eff out of there to go write this paper. you are READY TO WRITE LIKE A CHAMP.
3:10 pm - oh shit. Wendy's sells strawberry milkshakes. de-licious.
3:40 - get home. god who made such a freaking mess in your room?! Blame your roommate. You certainly can't write with all this ridiculous clutter.
While cleaning, you may as well get all those bills written out that have been sitting on your desk for who knows how long, because you accidentally found them when you moved your old dead laptop, package up some mail you've been meaning to send out, and hell, when *is* the last time you swept the kitchen floor? While your sweeping, marvel over the amount of cat hair you sweep up, contemplate saving it to impress your roommate.
About this time you will remember your friend's baby shower gift that needs to be wrapped, its been sitting in the corner of your room so long its started to double as furniture, search for wrapping paper - no time like the present! (hah, see what I did there, present? yup. incredible)
Okay, this is when you need to get serious. Quit goofing the eff off. Sit on your bed. Open your laptop. And remember you haven't downloaded off of emusic in awhile. Try to very quickly make good on the 50 tracks you pay for monthly in one foul swoop, and maybe spend fifteen minutes trying to find Kangaroo by Big Wu, because this 4 minute song kind of rocks your world the two times you've heard it on Sirius. oh wait, speaking of creating queues, this will remind you, you had some very important things that needed to be added to netflix.
I wisely suggest you appear to be very startled when you realize its 5:30. you *really* need to start writing. But you promised you would get cat food today, and you certainly don't want that hanging over your head while trying to write....better run out and grab a few things - oh, and that pet hair brush you have been meaning to get for months? They sell them beside the cat food.
So now the cat is thoroughly brushed, the brush is thoroughly cleaned. What can you really do now except blog about procrastinating while continuing to carry out the said subject manner? Because now its 6:27 and you just yawned 143 times in a row. You'll probably be in bed before too long. This now leaves you maybe a couple of hours of writing. Don't forget, you still have to eat dinner and shower too.
Way to go you slacker. You just wasted your entire day. Hope your proud of yourself.
So its Sunday, your PI returns on Thursday, and you know she is expecting this review you started writing from what feels like birth. (How surprised the doctors were as you exited your mothers uterus with a mini type writer just a tappin' away about DAMPs and fibrosis.)
Your week is looking really busy, so Sunday is kind of the last day to really have giant swaths of time to do nothing but focus solely on writing. So here is how I recommend preparing for a day of intense uninterrupted writing:
First, sleep in until noon. No way to mentally kick off your day like dragging yourself out of bed in the afternoon feeling like you've been hit by a bus. This should be followed by strawberry waffles and an episode of little house on the prairie. On every commercial break, explain to your boyfriend that you absolutely must leave. like. this is it. you really gotta go. But oh.my.god. I think Laura's brother in law is dying. Sad shit.
(interesting tidbit, Shannon Doherty played a little girl on that show - your bf will probably try and argue with you and tell you that it is so not her -but don't worry, after checking on IMDB, you are right as usual)
So when little house on the prairie is over (a whole hour for these episodes too, really) - somehow time has slipped into 2pm. and then Gladiator actually has the gall to come on. So as you are saying goodbye - slowly, find yourself sinking back into the couch, eyes glazed, mouth slack... Gladiator is a stronger timesuck than little house on the prairie, imagine.
2:45 pm - yes. You are now off the couch, but you should probably smoke a clove before you actually hit the road.
3:05pm - Finally, you get the eff out of there to go write this paper. you are READY TO WRITE LIKE A CHAMP.
3:10 pm - oh shit. Wendy's sells strawberry milkshakes. de-licious.
3:40 - get home. god who made such a freaking mess in your room?! Blame your roommate. You certainly can't write with all this ridiculous clutter.
While cleaning, you may as well get all those bills written out that have been sitting on your desk for who knows how long, because you accidentally found them when you moved your old dead laptop, package up some mail you've been meaning to send out, and hell, when *is* the last time you swept the kitchen floor? While your sweeping, marvel over the amount of cat hair you sweep up, contemplate saving it to impress your roommate.
About this time you will remember your friend's baby shower gift that needs to be wrapped, its been sitting in the corner of your room so long its started to double as furniture, search for wrapping paper - no time like the present! (hah, see what I did there, present? yup. incredible)
Okay, this is when you need to get serious. Quit goofing the eff off. Sit on your bed. Open your laptop. And remember you haven't downloaded off of emusic in awhile. Try to very quickly make good on the 50 tracks you pay for monthly in one foul swoop, and maybe spend fifteen minutes trying to find Kangaroo by Big Wu, because this 4 minute song kind of rocks your world the two times you've heard it on Sirius. oh wait, speaking of creating queues, this will remind you, you had some very important things that needed to be added to netflix.
I wisely suggest you appear to be very startled when you realize its 5:30. you *really* need to start writing. But you promised you would get cat food today, and you certainly don't want that hanging over your head while trying to write....better run out and grab a few things - oh, and that pet hair brush you have been meaning to get for months? They sell them beside the cat food.
So now the cat is thoroughly brushed, the brush is thoroughly cleaned. What can you really do now except blog about procrastinating while continuing to carry out the said subject manner? Because now its 6:27 and you just yawned 143 times in a row. You'll probably be in bed before too long. This now leaves you maybe a couple of hours of writing. Don't forget, you still have to eat dinner and shower too.
Way to go you slacker. You just wasted your entire day. Hope your proud of yourself.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I am not a zoo animal.
I have been asked literally, super seriously, and no exaggeration here, at least 10 times, how old I am, over the past month. I get this once in awhile sure - but 10 times in a month is ridiculously excessive.
I don't know if its the fact that I'm a waif with a giant head from the prednisone, or that I look young and then confuse people when I speak the language of genius, or its all a giant coincidence (banking on the genius hypothesis)..but let me tell you how simply shocked each and every one of them was to discover I am 25.
Their ballpark?
14-16. Never older than 16. A whole decade off? honestly? I mean, its one thing if someone guesses 80, and your 70, and maybe you also smoked your whole life, lived on the streets, abused meth, and never wore sunblock....but come on - 15 and 25 is really mistakable? This is not a one time occurrence either. I have a pretty significant quota of inquirers here.
For example - Monday, registering for my umpteenth CT scan of the year (im having a litter of mutant aliens for children at this point), the guy behind the counter kept like - *looking at me* - like maybe that pizza I just scarfed made it into my hair/eyebrows/etc (this is unfortunately, not uncommon - and guess how pleased the CT people were that I ate, when somehow I forgot after my last 100 scans, that you aren't supposed to)...so anyway... this guy returns my insurance card and barks out at me. 'So how old are you anyway'
'25'
guy flips, '25? NOOooooo. no. no way. (chuckles, shakes his head, looks around in disbelief -anyone else catching this freak show?- looks back at me.) Really!? But you're so little! I thought you were 14... 25!?'
sigh. monotone. 'yeah. crazy. i get this all the time.'
guy engages ALL 5 employees behind the counter --'GUYS, guys, hey...guys, how old do you think this girl is!? (no time for their response) this girl is 25.....*twenty five*.....She's so little I never would have guessed!!
(mass hub bub behind the counter as they all strain in their chairs to take in this sideshow, who is either a lying sack of crap or a pure genetic anomoly, apparently I fall into some extreme category to warrant this reaction over and over - they are now just as shocked, talking amongst themselves about me, in front of me ---hey guys maybe you could be a little more rude? I don't feel awkward at all.)
...I thought she was 14! I thought my daughter was older than her! She is in 9th grade!'
so then, inevitably, this is always followed by the 'you'll appreciate it when you're older' speech.
'thanks. I'm sure I'll really like it' (not if I have to listen to this BS for the rest of my life)
So I turn around to take my seat in this gigantic ass waiting room to find, everyone, in the gigantic ass waiting room, is also looking at me. All that was missing was the requisite cricket soundtrack. Had I the balls, the right mood, the right amount of alcohol, this would have been the perfect time to break out an MC Hammer dance, the Meatstick dance, a little Michigan J Frog. But, I was pissy after spending my day getting various intravenous transfusions for hours on end. Or. maybe. I was in a great mood before the counter scene come to think of it. But at this point I kind of wanted everyone in sight to contract syphillis. in their mouth.
(but what makes these people ask in the first place if they are always so certain I am in fact, 14? Obviously you aren't certain, b/c these conversations always have the same pattern, I get a shocked look, a few comments of a disbelieving nature, followed by a little arguing b/c I might be lying and/or dumb, finally they concede the truth, all the while shaking their head)
I think my own return questions need to be prepared.
Yeah, I'm really 25. and how much do you weigh. Only 240? Crazy. Here I was thinking you were at least 290, I mean at the very very least. Hey. GUYS! (I will not restrain from pointing wildly) Guess how much this chick weighs. Didn't you think she was way fatter. Isn't SO. WEIRD. You'll probably never appreciate being fat like I'll appreciate my youthful glow when I'm 63, but maybe you shouldn't wear horizontal stripes, like, ever again.
The age question often doesn't get under my skin to this extent. The radiology experience however, was beyond called for, and its been festering in the back of my head. In case you know, that wasn't noticeable. Maybe when I manage to push beyond this plateau of 93 lbs that Ive hit, and cannot get past, regardless of how much I stuff my face, people will not feel the need to ostracize me. (granted, unintentionally)
Until then, be prepared to be called out on your own freak show.
I don't know if its the fact that I'm a waif with a giant head from the prednisone, or that I look young and then confuse people when I speak the language of genius, or its all a giant coincidence (banking on the genius hypothesis)..but let me tell you how simply shocked each and every one of them was to discover I am 25.
Their ballpark?
14-16. Never older than 16. A whole decade off? honestly? I mean, its one thing if someone guesses 80, and your 70, and maybe you also smoked your whole life, lived on the streets, abused meth, and never wore sunblock....but come on - 15 and 25 is really mistakable? This is not a one time occurrence either. I have a pretty significant quota of inquirers here.
For example - Monday, registering for my umpteenth CT scan of the year (im having a litter of mutant aliens for children at this point), the guy behind the counter kept like - *looking at me* - like maybe that pizza I just scarfed made it into my hair/eyebrows/etc (this is unfortunately, not uncommon - and guess how pleased the CT people were that I ate, when somehow I forgot after my last 100 scans, that you aren't supposed to)...so anyway... this guy returns my insurance card and barks out at me. 'So how old are you anyway'
'25'
guy flips, '25? NOOooooo. no. no way. (chuckles, shakes his head, looks around in disbelief -anyone else catching this freak show?- looks back at me.) Really!? But you're so little! I thought you were 14... 25!?'
sigh. monotone. 'yeah. crazy. i get this all the time.'
guy engages ALL 5 employees behind the counter --'GUYS, guys, hey...guys, how old do you think this girl is!? (no time for their response) this girl is 25.....*twenty five*.....She's so little I never would have guessed!!
(mass hub bub behind the counter as they all strain in their chairs to take in this sideshow, who is either a lying sack of crap or a pure genetic anomoly, apparently I fall into some extreme category to warrant this reaction over and over - they are now just as shocked, talking amongst themselves about me, in front of me ---hey guys maybe you could be a little more rude? I don't feel awkward at all.)
...I thought she was 14! I thought my daughter was older than her! She is in 9th grade!'
so then, inevitably, this is always followed by the 'you'll appreciate it when you're older' speech.
'thanks. I'm sure I'll really like it' (not if I have to listen to this BS for the rest of my life)
So I turn around to take my seat in this gigantic ass waiting room to find, everyone, in the gigantic ass waiting room, is also looking at me. All that was missing was the requisite cricket soundtrack. Had I the balls, the right mood, the right amount of alcohol, this would have been the perfect time to break out an MC Hammer dance, the Meatstick dance, a little Michigan J Frog. But, I was pissy after spending my day getting various intravenous transfusions for hours on end. Or. maybe. I was in a great mood before the counter scene come to think of it. But at this point I kind of wanted everyone in sight to contract syphillis. in their mouth.
(but what makes these people ask in the first place if they are always so certain I am in fact, 14? Obviously you aren't certain, b/c these conversations always have the same pattern, I get a shocked look, a few comments of a disbelieving nature, followed by a little arguing b/c I might be lying and/or dumb, finally they concede the truth, all the while shaking their head)
I think my own return questions need to be prepared.
Yeah, I'm really 25. and how much do you weigh. Only 240? Crazy. Here I was thinking you were at least 290, I mean at the very very least. Hey. GUYS! (I will not restrain from pointing wildly) Guess how much this chick weighs. Didn't you think she was way fatter. Isn't SO. WEIRD. You'll probably never appreciate being fat like I'll appreciate my youthful glow when I'm 63, but maybe you shouldn't wear horizontal stripes, like, ever again.
The age question often doesn't get under my skin to this extent. The radiology experience however, was beyond called for, and its been festering in the back of my head. In case you know, that wasn't noticeable. Maybe when I manage to push beyond this plateau of 93 lbs that Ive hit, and cannot get past, regardless of how much I stuff my face, people will not feel the need to ostracize me. (granted, unintentionally)
Until then, be prepared to be called out on your own freak show.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
sophistication
So I'm sitting outside watching my little sister, she doesn't know I can see her, or that I am even out here. She is twelve, fully going on 16. Heavy eyeliner, trendy hair, decked out in hollister, boyfriends, constant cell phone, etc etc. It is a rare moment when we get a glimpse of cute little Emma, the one that carried around her little yellow crusty bacteria laden blanket everywhere and said adorable things, mouth stuffed with blanket, like "I can't bweve" when the car got too stuffy.
So I'm watching her play alone on this bench we have in our yard, I think she has constructed a worm family and is thusly making them play house, judging by the wafts of little emma voice that make its way over here from time to time. (god these poor worms). Yes, one of them is late for school.
Okay, the really cute part is when she started getting kind of upset, then really upset, and apologizing profusely. This apologizing is loud and clear. And now she is digging a hole in the ground. She is um, def crying. I think she killed a worm and is burying it. After the remains have I suppose, been appropriately dealt with by Emma's standards, little Emma promptly returned to le sigh Emma. Stood up, dusted off her pants, flipped her hair seventeen different ways, fixed her eyeliner, pulled out her cell phone and is walking towards me. All flippant and slightly annoyed to even have to ask, she inquires if caterpillars are one of those things that can like, you know, do that regeneration thing if like maybe it like, gets cut in half by accident. No, Emma, you are a worm murderer. But, the worm sacrifice was totally worth this last fifteen minutes - not that I'll ever let her know this. poor worm.
(if you squint, that's emma, remembering for a brief moment, that she is in fact only 12)
So I'm watching her play alone on this bench we have in our yard, I think she has constructed a worm family and is thusly making them play house, judging by the wafts of little emma voice that make its way over here from time to time. (god these poor worms). Yes, one of them is late for school.
Okay, the really cute part is when she started getting kind of upset, then really upset, and apologizing profusely. This apologizing is loud and clear. And now she is digging a hole in the ground. She is um, def crying. I think she killed a worm and is burying it. After the remains have I suppose, been appropriately dealt with by Emma's standards, little Emma promptly returned to le sigh Emma. Stood up, dusted off her pants, flipped her hair seventeen different ways, fixed her eyeliner, pulled out her cell phone and is walking towards me. All flippant and slightly annoyed to even have to ask, she inquires if caterpillars are one of those things that can like, you know, do that regeneration thing if like maybe it like, gets cut in half by accident. No, Emma, you are a worm murderer. But, the worm sacrifice was totally worth this last fifteen minutes - not that I'll ever let her know this. poor worm.
(if you squint, that's emma, remembering for a brief moment, that she is in fact only 12)
Saturday, May 16, 2009
almost human
push play or else.
so - in addition to actually making it over my first mountain on my bike yesterday, and yes it was only a 12 mile ride, and yes I spent most of the time not trying to swallow my tongue/vomit trying to breathe, and yes I could have done it 4 times over not too long ago and it been a whim, and no I still don't even remotely fill out my bike shorts, but I did that shit, and it was harder than crap. Yeah, so in addition to THAT. allow me to say I ate three whole meals yesterday, inclusive of toaster strudels, pb&j and chips, and ginger snaps and whipped cream (among other delightful concoctions) - and house was on for four hours last night...and I started my writing assignment for lab. (if you aren't weeping tears of overwhelming joy for me at this point, congratulations, you have no soul)....in addition to all of this
so - in addition to actually making it over my first mountain on my bike yesterday, and yes it was only a 12 mile ride, and yes I spent most of the time not trying to swallow my tongue/vomit trying to breathe, and yes I could have done it 4 times over not too long ago and it been a whim, and no I still don't even remotely fill out my bike shorts, but I did that shit, and it was harder than crap. Yeah, so in addition to THAT. allow me to say I ate three whole meals yesterday, inclusive of toaster strudels, pb&j and chips, and ginger snaps and whipped cream (among other delightful concoctions) - and house was on for four hours last night...and I started my writing assignment for lab. (if you aren't weeping tears of overwhelming joy for me at this point, congratulations, you have no soul)....in addition to all of this
I AM NOW DRAINLESS.
My dad came at me with gauze and a pair of scissors this morning and said.
It is time.
It is time.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
okay, i couldn't not post this
From: my aunt
To: my mom
Sent: 5/5/2009 7:24:39 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time
Subj: lisa
I heard Lisa came home....Elizabeth and I just sent her some stuff to NC....smack her while she is there for not listening to her mother. Pinch her and pull her hair....that will teach her!! Take good care of her and tell her we are thinking about her. smack her!
**in ref to the fact that mom tried to save me from my past five months of hell by doing everything she could to make me go to UVA to my old docs. she is convinced I would be in a better brighter place. (of course, like always, im sure she was right)
that is all.
home.
So I think somewhere between my last blog post and now - its honestly been a gigantic haze, I went back in the hospital, twice? Then I crawled my way out more mentally broken than I really thought was feasible. So, naturally, I called mom and after a long blubbering conversation - decided I needed to go home to Virginia to wait out the last of this no eating/being hooked up to parental nutrition/having too many tubes to count hanging out of my body draining scary horrid things/ part of the illness.
The good news is I feel like a normal person again. I'm still tube laden, but I had one egg today, and mom made me pretend chicken soup, and it was better than 99% of the past month of my life. Eating *is* amazing, even if I'm not really supposed to yet.
Mom and I skipped all of our work today (I have two papers yet to write for school) and pulled out all of her old pictures from her childhood up through mine, the ones hidden away in a closet having not been touched in maybe a decade or two. So the day has really been kind of wonderful. Hours of sitting on the cold floor, freezing, ass hurting, spine hurting, starving - the most fantastic minutes of my life since being able to eat an egg this morning.
Favorites:
my older sister and me
the rare pictures a of me as a baby when I didn't look asian/laden with brain tumor/like the gerber baby
my older sister begged my mom to make a snowman when 1/2 an inch of snow fell. So they made a tiny snowman, adorned him in doll clothes, and saved him in the freezer forever.
older sister again, and not much has changed.
I reiterate.
my mom was a babe.
I am *so* happy to be home. I don't know if I have enjoyed/appreciated it to this extent - maybe ever. I think this needed to happen for more reasons than I will ever be able to surmise.
Mom is angry with me because I am blogging and not working on my paper, I can't handle one more dirty look and big sigh.
She did after all, let me eat an egg.
Back to the land of pubmed scouring and sentence rewriting.
The good news is I feel like a normal person again. I'm still tube laden, but I had one egg today, and mom made me pretend chicken soup, and it was better than 99% of the past month of my life. Eating *is* amazing, even if I'm not really supposed to yet.
Mom and I skipped all of our work today (I have two papers yet to write for school) and pulled out all of her old pictures from her childhood up through mine, the ones hidden away in a closet having not been touched in maybe a decade or two. So the day has really been kind of wonderful. Hours of sitting on the cold floor, freezing, ass hurting, spine hurting, starving - the most fantastic minutes of my life since being able to eat an egg this morning.
Favorites:
my older sister and me
the rare pictures a of me as a baby when I didn't look asian/laden with brain tumor/like the gerber baby
my older sister begged my mom to make a snowman when 1/2 an inch of snow fell. So they made a tiny snowman, adorned him in doll clothes, and saved him in the freezer forever.
older sister again, and not much has changed.
I reiterate.
my mom was a babe.I am *so* happy to be home. I don't know if I have enjoyed/appreciated it to this extent - maybe ever. I think this needed to happen for more reasons than I will ever be able to surmise.
Mom is angry with me because I am blogging and not working on my paper, I can't handle one more dirty look and big sigh.
She did after all, let me eat an egg.
Back to the land of pubmed scouring and sentence rewriting.
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