Monthly Archives: October 2009

The positives

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  • Today, I’m not in pain. At least, not right at this particular moment.
  • I spent money I didn’t really want to spend last night on a new pair of jeans and pants for work. The downside? I’ve gone up a size and I don’t think it’s going to change. But who can deny a new pair of jeans that make your ass look awesome? (My apologies, Mr. Savings Account.)
  • This weekend I went out to dinner with my friend Joe and his girlfriend on Friday, and then Sunday spent the afternoon with Mike and Kate watching the game at the bar. I love having time for my friends and family now, and I hope I get to spend even more time with everyone.
  • My kitty is so freaking cute. She’s all curled up on the foot stool right now with her head tucked into her arms. Clearly this is the kind of thing I should be taking pictures of, but you’ll just have to wait. ;)
  • I now have tons of time to work on projects that are unfinished or begging to be started. I refuse to let myself get stressed out about them this time. These are FOR FUN projects, and I’ll remind myself of that every time I get a little tense.
  • I still have the spa gift certificate my uncle got me for my birthday. Guess what I’ll be doing the weekend after Halloween?
  • And speaking of Halloween, I’ve been invited to a Halloween party. I can’t wait to put together my costume (I’m going old school and making it from things I have around the house).

What are your positives for today?

Less than five days to go!

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NaNoWriMo starts in less than a week.

Since I’m officially a college dropout again, I’m going to be focusing all of my extra time into my novel. Honestly, all I could think about over the last several months was getting back into writing. Sure, I wrote a quick story here and there, but nothing serious. All of my energy went into coding websites, getting ready for school, and then coding websites and going to school. While I was still in school, I fantasized about writing my novel while doing the whole school thing, but in my heart knew it probably wouldn’t be possible. While I’m a little sad about having to take a hiatus from my education, I’m more than excited that I’ll be filling the gap doing what I love the most.

I wanted to post more tips before we got to November, but school left me with little extra time for blogging. So instead of several posts, I’m going to do a list! (We all love lists, right?)

Getting Ready for November Noveling Mania

  • Write an outline. Your outline could be as simple as beginning, middle, and end, but having one keeps you from getting stuck. Trust me on this. You can always change things around later, but having a sense of direction while pumping out those words really makes a difference.
  • Get to know your characters. You can write mini profiles, some back story, or whatever, but make sure you get to know your characters at least a little bit before you write. I posted a character interview worksheet that you are free to use.
  • Don’t stress. NaNoWriMo is supposed to be fun! You can’t have fun if you’re stressed out about it.

During NaNoWriMo

  • Drink coffee. This isn’t really a tip; it’s more of a given. I highly recommend the White Chocolate Mocha with whipped cream at Starbucks. You’ll need the espresso!
  • Pace yourself. Break the 50,000 words into smaller, more doable chunks. I try to write 2,000 words a day. If I write more, I’m ahead of schedule. If I write less, I only have to write that plus 2,000 the next day. Pacing yourself also ensures that you don’t burn yourself out. I said in a comment on another blogger’s post about NaNoWriMo tips that if you burn yourself out, you’re less likely to do any writing. (Coffee, of course, helps.)
  • Connect with other NaNoWriMo-ers. These kinds of connections are priceless, as you and your writing buddies will cheer each other on, bounce ideas off of each other and, if your lucky, get super competitive. (A little friendly competition will send your word count way up!) I guess this should technically go under “Getting Ready,” as you’ll want to spend November writing rather than trying to make friends, but you should use these connections while writing. All you have to do is take a cruise around the NaNoWriMo forums, do a quick search on Twitter, or check out the NaNoWriMo-themed blogs on Technorati.

Are you doing NaNoWriMo this year? What are some of your NaNoWriMo tips? Share them in the comments below!

The first step

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I’ve always had a hard time admitting when something is too hard or when I need help. I’m stubborn and fiercely independent. I also tend to get hit with big ideas and goals, and then I jump into them without thinking them through.

During the last couple of months, I’ve constantly felt as if I could barely keep my head above the water. It wasn’t just school. It was also work, my health problems, my relationship with Mike, and a deep inner yearning to toss everything away and get back to writing. Every aspect of my life suffered, and I with it. I kept trying to ignore the problem, kept trying to look at the bright side. “I can do this,” I’d tell myself, and with renewed strength I’d plow on through. But several days later I would be back in the same position, tired from all of the swimming and barely avoiding the waves of my To Do list from pulling me completely under.

Tuesday night I did not sleep. My legs were wrecked with a pain so intense that I could not do anything other than toss and turn. I wanted to scream, but the people in my house slept soundly around me. I lay there for hours, trapped in a prison that is supposed to be my body, until I finally threw the covers back and got up. I did a lot of bitching on Facebook, which I sort of regret (but only because I don’t like showing any kind of weakness).

I popped in the last DVD of Dollhouse Season 1 and watched “Epitaph One” and the original unaired pilot. I watched a whole bunch of special features. And still the pain wore on. I could barely concentrate, and although I felt so tired, I could not fall asleep. Pain like that is maddening, and I didn’t think I could stand another minute of it.

I logged into Facebook again, wandering around aimlessly, when Mike messaged me. He couldn’t sleep either. We had each been awake for hours, fighting our demons alone, but a simple website had allowed us to come together. We talked on the phone for a long time, sharing our thoughts and soothing each other. I asked him the question that I have been longing to ask but too proud to put into words: “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know. I wish I had an answer,” he said, and I could hear in his voice the frustration and pain he felt for me.

We talked some more, and suddenly the conversation turned to school. Suddenly, I could no longer hide the sensation of drowning that I had been feeling for the last couple of months. “I don’t even know where I’m going to be in five years,” I said, possibly unnecessarily morbidly. I confessed how stressed out I’m feeling, and how I just can’t seem to stay ahead or even on track of everything.

“Well,” he said. “I’m not saying this is what you should do, but maybe you should think about dropping out. Take the time to concentrate on finding out what’s wrong. You can always go back.”

There. He’d said the words that I’d been too stubborn to even think about, but had known deep in my heart for several weeks.

“But, I don’t know if it will affect my GPA,” I said, still stubbornly clinging.

“Screw the GPA,” he said. “It’s just a GPA.”

(Twenty-four hours later, my mom and I would have the same conversation, and she would say the exact thing he had: “It’s just a GPA.”)

“Just think about it,” he said. “School will always be there.”

For the next several hours, while I lay in bed not sleeping, and then when I barely slept tossing and turning, I thought about it. I admitted to myself that the stress of all the things I had stubbornly taken on might be making things worse. I admitted that I’m doing horribly in school and that at this point it is probably too late. I admitted that I needed to really concentrate on me, and that only then would I be able to do well in school.

After talking to my mom and then thinking about it a little more, I decided to do what my heart has wanted to do for several weeks now. I began the withdrawal process yesterday, and already I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted from me.

I have promised myself that I am not going to do this to myself again. I’m not going to jump into an idea that sounds awesome without thinking it through first. I’m going to learn to concentrate on one or two things at a time, without overloading myself. I’m going to take care of myself and find a way to find out what it wrong with me. I’m going to stop taking on so much that I end up burning myself out.

And, more importantly, I’m going to do what I love: I’m going to spend the entire month of November writing a novel without worrying about exams and portfolios and lesson plans and math.

I have taken the first step: I’ve admitted that, while I do really love kids, I’ve had doubts about becoming a teacher and going through this program. While I like school, it’s been incredibly stressful for me and I just honestly can’t handle it right now.

And that is okay. Just hearing it from Mike and Mom, that it’s okay, makes it easier for me to believe.

It’s okay, and I’m going to be okay.

Whatever the fuck is wrong with me hurts. Cymbalta can help.

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One month after yet another slew of blood work, and I still have no answers.

Mom came with me this time, and all of my blood work came back negative. Dr. Greco ran through the most recent and the last few tests to kind of bring Mom up to date. We discussed how I’d had mono and how certain diseases can contribute to later autoimmune diseases. We discussed birth control again and how the hormones in birth control can do all kinds of crazy things, like kill you or give you lupus. Dr. G admitted that he really is at a loss, but he really wants to help me.

“I can’t give you any answers right now, but I still want to make you feel better.” He asked whether I’m taking Tramadol still, and I told him that I haven’t been taking it recently because it literally fucks me up so bad that I can’t function; if I take it, I get stoned out of my mind. So he suggested Lyrica, which is just like neurontin (which makes me crazy and I refused to even try Lyrica). He asked if I am depressed. I almost didn’t tell him (because we all know what happens when you tell a doctor you’re depressed), but decided to be honest and told him yes, I am.

He said that some antidepressants can relieve pain, and gave me a free trial of Cymbalta. “You should not take this with Tramadol,” he warned as he slipped out of the room to go get the sample.

“I wonder if I should stop taking my birth control,” I said to Mom. “I’m going to ask him.”

“I would like to see you stop taking it,” he said, popping back in. He told us that he wrote a huge report on the effects that hormonal birth control can have on women, and told us that it can cause pain.

We scheduled a follow-up for four weeks from now, and I left with yet another batch of drugs (I should start selling my leftovers). So tomorrow morning, I’m not taking my Ovcon. (Somehow, not spending $40 a month on birth control anymore makes me feel a lot better.) I’m not entirely sure I buy the whole birth control thing, but it’s worth a try. I mean, at least I can say, “Okay, I stopped taking my birth control for a month or two and I’m still having symptoms.” I can’t knock it until I try it. And at this point, I’ll try anything, which is why I’m taking the Cymbalta without griping about how much I hate antidepressants and how Zoloft ruined my life, blahblahblah.

To be honest, medication scares the hell out of me. I’ve learned the hard way over and over that it affects me in really weird ways and, honestly, I have no idea what is in any of the shit that doctors tell us to take. If indeed my problem really lies with hormones in my birth control, I’m going to flip shit; no one ever talks about those kinds of side effects. (Note to self: Google that report.)

So I guess we’ll see. I’m honestly getting really freaking tired of this cycle, but I’ll give the no-Ovcon, yes-Cymbalta a shot. (Part of me wonders if he really does just think I’m crazy and pulled one over me by suggesting I take the antidepressant. But that’s the paranoid part of me.)

Haircuts

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During the summer before I turned nine (I’m an August baby), my little sister and I somehow managed to get lice. It still, to this day, makes my head itch terribly just thinking about it.

Lauren and I were probably playing Barbies or with our gigantic town of various action figures when we noticed a teensy black bug crawling around in our hideaway book. (You know, one of those hollow books you can hide things in?) We bounced down the stairs to wherever Mom was at the moment (probably in the living room watching General Hospital).

“Look Mommy,” we said, holding out the book to her. “What is it?”

I think my mother had a heart attack.

Luckily, my mom has always been calm and composed, and she recovered pretty quickly. She checked our heads and, sure enough, it was lice.

My sister and I were very close as little kids (and still are). At the time, we didn’t hang out with other kids outside of school. Since it was the middle of summer, we hadn’t come into contact with other kids aside from our cousins (who were lice-free). Yet somehow we had managed to both come down with the little buggers.

Mom immediately went out and bought the lice rinses, shampooing and combing the stuff through our long, shiny hair. I hated the scent of it, and I hated stooping over the sink as she rinsed it out. When we were both done, however, we seemed to be cured.

Of course, we weren’t. We did the treatment several more times over the next couple of weeks. Mom and Dad bombed the whole house, and soaked our stuffed animals in the tub with some stuff that was supposed to kill any eggs nested in our stuffed friends. All of our clothing and sheets were washed with scalding hot water, yet we still couldn’t get rid of the lice.

Finally, some well-meaning person told my mom to soak our heads with Vaseline. I can still remember Mom and Dad getting ready for the project. Dad bought some Ajax, which was the only thing that would cut through to wash the Vaseline out once we were coated. Lauren and I sat in chairs as Mom and Dad worked Vaseline into our hair and put plastic shower caps and plastic bags over our heads to keep it from dripping onto anything. I’m not sure how long we had to let it set in, but eventually it was time to wash it out. To this day, I can’t look at a bottle of Ajax and not remember my parents soaping up my hair over and over again, trying to get all of the Vaseline out. Unfortunately, my and Lauren’s hair was so long that it just wasn’t happening.

“We’re going to have to cut it,” said one of my parents. (I’ve honestly blocked out who.)

“NO!” Lauren and I screamed.

“We don’t have a choice,” Mom said. And then she took out the scissors from the drawer — the same scissors Lauren had once used to give her Barbie a lopsided haircut — and cut our hair as we cried and begged her not to.

Once our hair was shorter (and by shorter I mean boy short), the Vaseline washed out without a problem. And the lice? Were gone, never to come back. But I had one hell of a horrible haircut, worse than the haircut Britt recently gave her daughter Emma — I promise!! (I refuse to post pictures, because it truly was that bad.)

For the longest time after that, I refused to cut my hair. It grew all the way down to my hips before, at thirteen, I decided to cut it. Now I could care less; I cut it all the time! But for some reason, when I was a kid, my hair seemed to be my sole identity.

Do you have a bad or funny haircut story? Comment here with your best (or worst), and let’s show Britt that she hasn’t totally traumatized her kid!