If I'm angry for one more day I'm going to give myself an aneurysm.

I Should Have Domesticated That Bat. What A Badass Pet.

My friend Jesse and I were talking and something he said made me realize that I don't really have close friends here.

Mike is 7 hours away. Abbie is across the country. Emily is in the land of School And Boyfriend. And of course I only start feeling like this when everyone is asleep or out with people.

It just kind of sucked to realize that every time I talk to anyone about anything serious they are hours and hours away from me. I have awesome people around me, I have FRIENDS, but I just go to school and come home. I've been invited to do something outside of school exactly once this year, and I was busy the day she wanted me to come over. Or at least I said I was. I don't even remember if I was actually busy or not.

I feel like my good moods are so precarious, like it takes nothing more than noisy roommates or a bad practice session to make me so inexpressibly angry. I'm totally fine during the day, I'm in classes that I enjoy and around people I like and thinking about Christmas. Then I come home and I get angry and sad over little fucking nothings. It's wrong.

WOE IS ME THE MIRACLE OF MODERN TECHNOLOGY IS NOT ENOUGH FOR ME.

Abbie, I get it now. I know it's not the same because I'm near home but I get it as well as I'm ever going to.

I'm putting this here because it's the closest thing to anonymity I have. I need to get out thoughts like this but I'm not putting a fucking sob story on tumblr or something.

This was supposed to be a really short post.

Weird and Trivial

Song of the Day: What Are You Doing New Year's Eve - The Orioles

So this is a really dumb problem to have and it's not even a problem, it just pricks at me temporarily whenever it happens.

I have been head-over-heels for Christmas my entire life. My dad and I were always butting heads because I wanted to listen to Christmas music before Thanksgiving, I was always heaving the boxes of decorations out of the closet with my sister the morning after Thanksgiving, and I don't think anything makes me happier than Christmas lights at dusk during December.

Kayley is the one who gets labeled as the obsessive lover of Christmas.

This is a REALLY dumb thing to get upset about ("upset" is a pretty strong word for what I actually feel). You would think I would love having someone around who loves it like I do. And when we're together, that's usually the case because we know all the songs by heart and can just go nuts together. But for some reason it stings when she gets recognized as Little Miss Christmas.

I was thinking about this a lot last night and I eventually thought of this: as a kid I was always sort of surreptitiously trying to be like my friends. It wasn't so much that I thought I wasn't good enough as I was, but I really admired my friends and I think I wanted them to admire me too, and I thought that by getting the same binder or having the same favorite color as them, I would matter to them as much as they mattered to me. Yeah, the insecurity/jealousy thing ain't new.

So with this in mind, you would think that finding people who liked things I ALREADY liked would be just super fantastic and wonderful. My actual reaction was frustration. I think because on those rare occasions when I managed to have an original opinion, someone having the same one shunted me right back to square one, where I didn't feel unique or worth admiring or recognizing.

I can only assume that this feeling comes back now because in my own head, Christmas is sort of my Thing and then someone else gets recognized for it. As if Christmas can only be ONE person's Thing. Another person who loves it as much as I do should make me REALLY happy! And I suppose it does when I get down to it. Spreading the cheer and all that.

I must also remind myself that Kayley is "internet famous" and is therefore going to get more recognition than me, period. Which is fine, I don't really want to be internet famous.

I'm going to go adore Christmas now because in an hour it will be the Christmas season! And I'm really not genuinely upset about this whole thing. It's a prickly annoyance when it happens and then it goes away. This is just me considering the "why" of it.

This has been another episode of Emma's Crazy Neuroses.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas / Soon the bells will start / But the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing / right within your heart. - It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas, Perry Como (and every other crooner ever)

A Sadness

Song of the Day: Sons and Daughters by The Decemberists


I declare this My Last Sad Post. But I need to write it.

I am tired of being sad. I am tired of feeling purposeless. I am tired of feeling weak because loneliness feels irrational and illogical and other "i" words with negative connotations.

I figured out what's bothering me. This loneliness is new to me. I had a pillar of support for about 10 months. It was there all the time and I didn't stop appreciating it, but I definitely got used to it. Then it just sort of got swept out from under me and I totally have the ability to support myself without it, I just have to get used to it.

This is not to say that he isn't there for me when we're apart, because that's not the case at all. But phone calls and skype are very very different from physical presence. I keep myself in this cycle of feeling sad, then feeling angry at myself for being sad, then letting myself be sad again, then getting angry at myself for letting myself get sad, and on and on and on. And my mind doesn't need that sort of abuse. It's okay to be sad, but I'm done with it. I'm done with tears and I'm done with wallowing.

I'm not under any delusion that I can snap my fingers and suddenly feel like life is Awesome and Exciting and Full Of Promise. But I can remind myself every day that it IS those things, and hopefully after a while I will listen, and after a little while longer I will stop needing the reminders. Because right now I feel absent from some people's lives, and in others I am a Weight and a Sadness and that stinks because it's making me selfish and I'd rather listen intently than whine about how sad I am that I have to  be away from someone I love as if no one else has ever gone through this.

In more positive news, I hit 115 pounds today (before breakfast). 5 more to my weight goal. From there I'll decide whether I need a new goal or just maintenance. I don't have to worry about dipping below 110 because, while that's the cutoff for eligibility to donate plasma, they rejected me because only one of my arms was suitable for their needles. And apparently they need BOTH arms to have good veins? Whatever. It's cool guys, I didn't need those extra $220 a month, those wouldn't have been really really great to have at all. Especially not in the next two weeks. Nope nope, don't need that at all.

Aaaaaand back to the loving place.



I'm fallin' fast like a bird that's lost its feathers / It's been searching for a note to deliver / When 
I get back, I might not say a word / But will you, will you still love me? -When I Get Back (Tailor-Made Blues), The Harmed Brothers

A List of Things I Want

Unfiltered by privilege-checking or a desire to pretend I'm really wise and selfless.

An instrument in my hands
A flatter tummy
Stronger muscles
Longer hair
Cuddle buddy
To know if that song that one time was directed at me
Someone I can talk to (physically in the room would be nice)
To stop feeling so upset about nothing
Motivation
A sweatshirt
To share my passion for music with people
To live in San Francisco
To excel
A successful career
A career, period
The courage to wear more noticeable outfits
Money to have Experiences
A car
A good singing voice
A stiff drink (or 5)
A jaw that doesn't hurt
A side that doesn't hurt
Feet that don't hurt
Knees that don't hurt
A way to minimize my sister's stress
Inspiration for a wedding toast
To figure out what's independence and what's fear; to embrace the independence and overcome the fear
A dog
Another tattoo
A cup of tea
Functioning lungs/heart
Everything to work out. Eventually.
Everyone to be okay. Soon.

Gravity is working against me / And gravity wants to bring me down / Oh twice as much ain't twice as good / And can't sustain like one half could / it's wanting more that's gonna send me to my knees. -Gravity, John Mayer

My boyfriend is a turd

Why, you ask?

I'll tell you why.

Because we both sat on our asses and did nothing all day. As a result, I cannot sleep and am currently awake skyping with Abbie. It is two in the freakin a.m.

My boyfriend is a turd because HE is sleeping like a goddamn kitten. A kitten that sounds like a dragon slaying a pig. He's a noisy sleeper at times. Hello 2:00, goodbyyyyyyyyye filter!

Not that that was a particularly intimate detail. I'm still coherent enough to not share those. But not coherent enough to avoid splitting infinities. Infinitives, I mean. Man, splitting infinities. That's some Doctor Who shit right there. NeerNEERNEEEEEEEER. WEEEEEWOOOOOOOOO.


I need to get rid of him somehow so I can film a video. I've got it all scripted and everything. Maybe I can send him to the store tomorrow. The video might actually be good this time. It's about being homeless without being actually homeless.

I'm thirsty but water makes noise. Stupid sleeping turd. I can't tell if this is obnoxious or funny. If you think this is funny you should see me drunk. I start talking about how I'm a rhino. In the best possible sense.

I FORGOT I HAVE A HORSIE ON MY SIDE HEY HORSIE.

Thought Organization: Ignore

This is just me organizing the rest of my summer because I can't QUITE do it within the confines of my brain.

JULY:
-Visit home - wedding planning, dress alterations, Dark Knight Rises?
-Move Mike's stuff to Eugene
-Move apartment stuff to house
-Move Mike to Eugene

AUGUST:
-Stay in Eugene / get Mike settled
-Go to Ashland, try not to be stressed about the fact that his parents paid for the trip
-Possibly stop in Portland on the way home?
-Steph's bridal shower (what do you get your sister for her bridal shower??)
-Drive to Redding with Steph to visit grandpa
-Get Mike's birthday present in there somewhere

SEPTEMBER:
-Practice face off
-Get pieces up to par for re-audition into symphony
-Refresh theory and piano abilities
-Figure out buses to and from school
-Get Mike's belated birthday gift to him
-Finish Maid of Honor toast oh my god have you seriously not done that yet??

-Do not get over-stressed about things because everything is fine and everyone is okay and life is really great most of the time and remember that time things were boring and how much that sucked?

Why am I so bummed

I have absolutely no right to be this bummed

And I'm taking it out on people I love



I don't know how I got to such a bad place


I decided to stop drinking for a bit because drinking when I'm sad is bad news



And now I keep getting cravings for shitty food because I eat my feelings

But I have Catholic levels of guilt when it comes to food




And I just really need to be okay because Mike needs me right now.









This whomps.

Ranty Blawg

Song of the Day: Lookout for Yourself by Julia Nunes

Disclaimer: I am not genuinely upset by the subject of my following rant. Momentarily annoyed, perhaps.

I am pretty much bored to tears so I figured, why not write a blog entry that no one will read?

I get weirdly touchy about Emily and Jake's relationship. Like, how affectionate they are in front of other people. I feel like I SHOULD think that's lovely and adorable and really great, but it annoys the crap out of me. I'm in a very good relationship, so it's not a bitterness thing. And I hate PDA, so it's not like I wish I got more public action. So what bugs me?

I feel like there's a weird bubble around them. Like they don't realize how FUCKING ridiculous they're being. They just flop all over each other and he can't walk by her without leaning down for a kiss and it sounds stupid as I'm saying it but it's just sort of unpleasant to be around. Mostly/especially when I'm the only other one in the house, because they act like I'm not here, or they don't care that I am, or they wish I weren't. Sorry, I'm not retreating to the confines of my room so you two can REALLY go at it. You can go to YOUR room for that.

I think for me, affection is a really private thing. Like sitting next to each other and being close when other people are around is fine, but save the smooches, nuzzles, fondles, gropes, googly-eyes, foot massages (they do that one with weird frequency), and other uncomfortable-to-watch things for behind closed doors. When they do it around me, I'm suddenly intruding on a really intimate moment without intending to do so. They're over a year into their relationship, so it's not like they're in a honeymoon stage. I would be fine with that, it happens to everyone. I think things will cool down once they've lived together for a little bit and aren't over the fucking moon every time they're in the same room together. I'm glad they're happy, I really am. And that's why I don't say anything. Because I know they're just excited to be moving in together and all lovey-dovey about it. And they'll relax after a while once they realize that they can spend time together whenever they want, and they don't have to be touching each other with at least 40% of their bodies at ALL TIMES.

It's like smart phones. I don't use mine when I'm having meals with people or supposed to be conversing with them because I've been on the other end of that one one too many times. I don't like participating in PDA because I've been made uncomfortable by it a BUNCH of times. Intimacy is called that for a reason. If you do it (excessively) when other people are around, it just feels like you're doing it to be a showboating asshat, not because it's genuine. It's no less meaningful if no one is watching.

We'll go walkin' but nobody's talkin' / 'cause everything just seems clear. -Song for Lauren by The Harmed Brothers

The Case Against Internet Dating, or, An Essay For Pasta's Aunt

Song of the Day: Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon & Garfunkel

So Michael and I were talking about some silly ideas his aunt has, and I jokingly said I'd write an essay about why she was incorrect. But I think my reasons for never being interested in dating someone I met on the internet are very logical and I haven't really hashed them out here yet, so...yup.

1. Distance. I would never enter into a long-distance relationship if that's how it started out. Obviously my own relationship will soon have about 6 hours between its participating parties, but I'm okay with that (not exactly happy about it, mind you) because by then we'll have had about 9-10 months of ACTUAL relationship under our proverbial belts. A relationship that starts as a long-distance one is extremely difficult to continue because you can never see that person; you never get to hug them or kiss them. You don't get to go to movies together or have date nights or just sit and do homework together. You (most likely) have to worry about time differences when you call them. I just feel like every time you saw each other in real life, you'd have to get comfortable with them all over again. If you got to know each other in person, I think it makes a period of long distance a bit stronger because you have a stronger bond that makes you committed to making it work.

2. False/incomplete identities. This sort of ties in with distance, I guess. But it's really hard to genuinely get to know  someone over the internet, at least on a dating level. Like, you can only have a hypothetical relationship. You can talk about how you both love hiking, but you can't go on one together and get the bonding experience of overcoming a challenge together. You can't cuddle, you can just say "I wish we could cuddle." And when the hell are you supposed to say "I love you?" That's something that comes out naturally during a quiet moment together (unless you're Elizabeth Swan, then it happens right before a hanging). Call me old-fashioned, but I just don't think you get the full effect of someone's company without, you know, their company. You miss out on their mannerisms and how they treat you physically. What if your boyfriend is super gropey and you have no idea? I have friends on the internet whom I trust and who trust me, and I wouldn't hesitate to call them my friends, but isn't it a little odd to say you've never met your boyfriend/girlfriend?

3. Bad References. As the good friend of a fairly prominent internet personality, I've seen multiple relationships that started via the good ol' internet. None of them lasted long. One of them went particularly poorly, but I'd rather respect her privacy by not divulging the details of that particular one. I think the reason her current one is working out is because they can see each other on a semi-regular basis. I've seen other people be like, "You can totally get to know someone on the internet!" And my response is alway that you only get to know what they want you to know. You see the strengths they want to display and the weaknesses they are comfortable with sharing. They may share everything and they may not, but you'll never get the depth of character that you get from physically being with someone.

This is too long. But there are my reasons. I would never date someone I met on the internet for those reasons, but I am more than happy to be FRIENDS with people I meet on the internet in spite of them. "But Emma, friendship is still a strong bond." Yes, but it's a very different bond and requires different levels/types of vulnerability that, in my opinion, require the other person's physical company.

Banks out.

Too lazy to find post-relevant lyrics today.

Ramblin', where to begin

Song of the Day: Always On My Mind by Phantom Planet

I'm supposed to be studyiiiiiiing. But frankly, I had two finals this morning and I want to give my brain a wee break before diving into studying for my next one, which is at 3:30 so I have a bit of time.

I don't really have a direction for this post. Let's go with Summer.

Summer for me starts after my last final (environmental science) on Thursday morning. Since the dude is graduating, we're going to Seattle with his family for some on-the-house (read: paid-for-by-his-parents) fun. A nice lunch somewhere and a Mariners game, and then his dad is giving us a wad of cash to go do whatever we want on our own that evening. It looks like we're going to go see Prometheus in IMAX and then hit up Beth's for late-night noms.

Then...summer. Nothing major planned for it, really. Pretty much zero dollars to spend on going anywhere. I'm house/catsitting for my parents while my dad goes down to California in July, but that's kind of my Big Exciting Thing for the season =p Unless you count moving, 'cause I'm doing that too. That should be fun.

I really need summer clothes. I have exactly 2 pairs of shorts and 1 is unflattering. I have basically one wearable-in-an-everyday-way dress. And about 2 tank tops. Which I guess won't really be a problem if the weather continues on in its current fashion. But I have stuff I could sell to contribute toward clothes monies and I can't believe I have the urge to shop.

This is seriously the dullest post ever. I thought I had way more to say than this. Ohhhh no the Sleepy is hitting me WHAT AM I GOING TO DO.

Things I Like: Having my food paid for (by my parents, if anyone else does it I squirm), getting a bigger room, seeing Abbie, watching Cheers all summer, fruit season.
Things I Do Not Like: Not having a car (though biking will probably improve my health), feeling guilty about taking the bigger room even though a small room is currently giving me an anneurysm, being the only one in that big room, and the likelihood that August will arrive all too soon.

Dangit, the second list is longer. Ummm I also like Seattle, and finals being over, and seeing my kittens, and having a TV (which I won't feel guilty watching because of all that biking I'm going to do), biking, doing wedding stuff with Steph because I don't like weddings but I like her.

I don't know if any of this made sense or had any substance whatsoever. I'm gonna...go surf tumblr and eventually study for my theory final. Or something.

Summer arrives with a length of lights / summer blows away / and quietly gets swallowed by a wave / it gets swallowed by a wave. -Summersong, The Decemberists

Mah Feelz

Song of the Day: Into the Sunshine by Julia Nunes

Complainy bloooooooog. Haha. Bloog.

Here are my reasons to complain:
-I am sleepy because I got home late last night and didn't fall asleep for a long time
-My private teacher told me YESTERDAY that I need to use a different accompanist than the one I've had for a couple of weeks. That involves filling out forms and making payments and eck.
-The recital is coming up on the 31st. Now chances are that next to no people will show up because it's in the afternoon and not the evening, so I suppose that lowers stress levels. Still.
-I didn't eat well today. I've been trying so hard to be better. I got some strawberries in me though, so. That was good.
-I keep thinking about all the money I have to spend before the fall and it makes my stomach feel like a grape turning into a raisin on fast-forward. Rent, double rent, new bed, train tickets, food, all with no income.
-Core graduation requirements. I appreciate a rounded education, but it's already going to take me a million years to get my degree. YOU ARE NOT HELPING.
-My roots are getting ridiculous and I need to dye my hair back to my original color. I want to stop damaging it as it gets longer, and honestly I want to stop relying on my hair so much to determine how I feel about myself. I feel like I only like looking in the mirror to see my pretty red hair, and it's not even mine. I don't want that to be the case.
-I left my gorram water bottle at school AGAIN. Those cost like $20 apiece. I REALLY hope I can find it on Monday. I know exactly where I left it, but it will have been moved. Hopefully to the lost and found.
-I danced to a song today and I was out of breath by the end. SO out of shape. Fuck you, mono.

Here are my reasons to be happy and grateful:
-I got in late last night because I was seeing an awesome show with my sister. Good show, quality sister time, Dick's, wedding talk.
-I feel fairly confident about my piece for the recital. It's not difficult to play, but it's difficult to play WELL. It's slow, so I have to be really precise about everything. But I honestly think I can do it.
-My appetite is back after a hiatus of a few weeks.
-I have been pretty good about putting money away, so I HAVE the money for these things. I just don't want to use it all and worrying about money makes me feel grown-up in the worst way and so unprepared for the Big Scary World.
-While I may be stressed about fitting everything in, I AM eager to learn things whether or not they're related to my major. The world is amazing and wonderful and awful and huge and varied and I want a double scoop of it on a waffle cone with sprinkles.
-I'm excited to work toward a mental state wherein I'm confident without relying on my hair. Time to stop being drizzle and start being a hurricane, yeah?
-There's really no upside to the water bottle thing.
-I danced today.

I can feel myself getting better all the time. Physically and mentally and emotionally. There are bumps and twists and things suck sometimes but then they rock and it's like, okay, those sucky things were worth it and I'm glad I learned from them. It's kind of incredible to feel myself growing and stretching in different ways and making achievable goals for my future. Okay. This post is long enough. And I feel a bit better.

Oh hey, another reason to feel good: Abbie is coming home in a few weeks! So excited for those two weeks in July. All of the fun times with my favorite lady.

I better see you run / As far, as fast as you can / watch you fall / pick yourself back up again / And turn around to face the past / that put you there / And I'll thank God that it wasn't fair. -To the Damsels: Run, Julia Nunes

Not That I Should Be Practicing, Or Anything...

Song of the Day: Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah

I think I'll vlog about this soon, but I sort of want to organize my thoughts on the matter first. SO. You know, we say "welp" because it ends up sounding that way in the right tone. I think I'm going to start SOPE.

Got meself all Sorted the other day. Ravenclaw! Admittedly, I was not expecting that. As I was answering the questions, I actually said to Mike and Emily, "Guys, I'm SUCH a Hufflepuff." My answers were things like, I'd want to talk to animals, and I want to be known for being GOOD. Huffin' and puffin' all over the place, so I thought.

The thing is, I was never SURE where I belonged. I liked the idea of being in Gryffindor because I wanted to feel like I could be brave when I needed to be, but I was never fully sure I would be; frankly, I've never really had an occasion where I NEEDED to be all that brave (medical procedures, auditions, all seem like small change in the realm of things that require actual bravery). I didn't feel ambitious (at least not willing to step on others) enough for Slytherin. I knew I wasn't smart enough to belong to Ravenclaw. I professed myself as a Gryffindor but not-so-secretly placed myself truly in Hufflepuff, because I didn't feel like I had the qualities required for the other Houses. Hufflepuffs have awesome qualities that I felt justified in claiming (loyalty, fairness, hard work).

So J.K. put me in Ravenclaw. I think I'm the Neville of Ravenclaw in that I sort of sat there thinking, "No no no, don't put me here! I can't live up to this House's reputation! Just put me somewhere else." But the thing is, Jo wrote the test herself. If anyone knows what they're talking about on the subject, it's her. And if the very Founder of the House(s) thinks I belong there, I guess I sort of have to believe her =]

The other facet of this is that Houses are in shades of grey. There are people who have been Sorted who are like, "Gryffindor? I'm totally a Ravenclaw!" "Slytherin? I'm totally a Hufflepuff!" And they get all butthurt and brush it off. For one thing, Jo wrote it, and every house is awesome, so get over it. For another, it may depend on how you were feeling that day. Here's the rub: I don't think anyone is PURELY one House. I think we all have different bits of different Houses in us, and those come out at different times in different strengths. Flitwick and McGonagall were both Hatstalls between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, but they just tipped in opposite directions. Where you are placed depends on which part of you is the STRONGEST, and which you may end up developing the most. And it's all good stuff. Ambition, pride, bravery, hard work, loyalty, intelligence, cleverness, chivalry, justice. Conversely, Gryffindors have timid or cowardly moments, Slytherins can be humble and selfless, Hufflepuffs can be traitors, Ravenclaws can be intolerant idiots. But there is no BAD House.

I still think I have some Gryffindor and Hufflepuff in me. But I'm also proud of my intelligence (which DOES exist, even when I don't give myself enough credit for it). I'm proud to belong to a House that values wit, cleverness, hard work, and acceptance. It's funny that this came so soon after my beginning-of-quarter pledge to put my rear in gear and get As with occasional Bs this spring. I'm gonna Nerd it up good.

Conclusion: We are all awesome and nothing is black and white (or rather, red and yellow and green and blue). So let's all be friends, yes?

Lovely, never ever change / Keep that breathless charm / Won't you please arrange it? / 'Cause I love you / just the way you look tonight. -The Way You Look Tonight, Frank Sinatra

A Depressing Post

Song of the Day: Norwegian Wood by The Beatles

Dear Anya*,

Today was pretty balls, and the way it started was most of the problem. I got no sleep (I don't think I got more than a couple of hours all together), and then my alarm went off as usual. I delayed it for 15 minutes, and in those 15 minutes I managed to fall asleep and had a dream.

It started out pretty dumb, the way my dreams usually do. There was a deer in my house (my parents' house) and you were looking at it like you wanted to charge at it. So I took you into the back room while Mom got the deer outside. You really wanted to chase that thing, but you were good and you followed me. After we got the whole thing squared away, I hugged you and told you what a good dog you were. Suddenly I noticed that you were just a little too small, and you were wearing your red collar. You wore a red collar when you were just 7 or 8 years old. That was when I realized that you had died, and had somehow come back to me. But that meant you had to leave again.

As I realized this, you started to age. You got a little bigger (very slowly, aging a few years every minute or so). You got a little grayer. Your coat became less shiny. I started crying, trying to make you comfortable, trying to make it stop. You laid down and I could tell you knew exactly what was happening. I was hysterical by this point, and the whole thing felt way too real. Probably because I had already felt it. I watched you die in real life, and now I had to watch you die again inside my own head. I kept begging you to tell me what I could do, like I really expected a response.

My alarm went off again right as you slipped away. I woke up, controlled my tears, and went in to shower. I actually thought I might throw up, but the tightness in my throat subsided as I forced myself to calm down. I've tried not to think about that dream throughout the day but it just brought up everything that sucked about that day; knowing you were in pain, wondering if we were betraying you or relieving you, wondering if we had held on too long in our selfish desire for your company, just trying to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be. We didn't cry until you were gone. We wanted you to know everything was going to be okay.

At any rate, I hope you are somewhere wonderful and warm. I hope someone plays with you and lets you sleep on their bed, and doesn't fight back the way I did when you took over most of it. I hope your hips don't hurt. I hope you know how much I love you, and that you are the reason I love dogs and want another one, but know that I could never replace you and the 14 years you gave me.

I wonder if my body was keeping me awake last night because it knew that dream was lurking in my subconscious. I appreciate the effort, I suppose, even if it was for nothing. I felt bad for Mike because it was like, "Good morning, you have an emotionally distraught girlfriend to deal with!"

That's the sort of dream that makes you afraid to fall asleep again.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

*This star is really just for Michael, who may want to note that Anya was my dog

No Kinda

Song of the Day: Lookout for Yourself by Julia Nunes (I'm on a Nunes kick)

Dear Erin,

I'm terrible at starting letters. I never know what my first sentence should be, so it almost always ends up being a statement of my inability to begin letters.

You brought my confidence a long way. I remember when I was headed for my Cornish audition, you told me that it was as much about me as a musician as it was about the music I was playing. "Your leather jacket. Your tattoo. You know who you are. And you adore what you do. Show them that." That was always my biggest challenge: setting aside what I thought of my abilities (and lack thereof) and just letting my love for my cello shine through. Very occasionally you would get me to let go and just focus on enjoying the sound I was making, and it made an incredible difference. You said, "I know you love your cello. I know you love music. I can hear it if I close my eyes. But when I open them, I don't see it."

Seeing it matters. Obviously music is mostly about our ears, but you can see when a musician is totally absorbed and swept away by what they're doing. And I appreciate how hard you tried to get me out of my shell in that sense. You said, "Make the mistakes properly. Attack them. If you don't make a mistake all the way, you can't fix it all the way. Dare the mistakes to happen. You can only whack the moles that pop up, right?" "Right." "Don't just kinda play it. Don't just get through it. Make every single mistake, and relish every single good note--there are more of those than you give yourself credit for." "No kinda."

I've always had performance anxiety--I still do--and you worked hard to get me over that. I would start panicking before auditions and you would tell me to breathe; if I couldn't get a full breath, you would make me laugh and just that little bit of relaxation enabled me to breathe properly, which relaxed me further. You never told me there was anything I couldn't do. You didn't laugh when I told you about my future goals. And I could talk to you more freely than I could talk to my own mother. You were so intuitive about anything that was bothering me, about my insecurities, my competitiveness. You were there. Every single time.

And now I am here. I am here doing what I love and learning to do it better and better. While my new teacher has to correct some minor technical things that he didn't care for, he approves of what you instilled in me about attacking the music and just loving it. I still get so frustrated sometimes by the limits of my current ability, but I can feel myself getting better. And I know I wouldn't have gotten here without your help and encouragement. Believing in myself is something I've always struggled with, and you not only cheered me on, but you helped me work toward cheering on myself. It's still a struggle, but I'm learning every day to have more confidence in my abilities and be okay with the fact that they are a work in progress. As you reminded me, even those who seem so much more talented than I can still learn more and improve their skills; I can only fairly compare myself to Past Me, and then I should feel nothing but pride in my progress.

Thank you for every Monday morning.

ceci ne pas une post

Got an idea and I want to write it here so I don't forget. I think this was inspired by an old friend's tumblr post today, but I suddenly feel the desire to write letters. But not actual ones. Ones that I post here, where 3 people TOPS will read them. Because this is where I can Feelings in safety. I don't know how many I'll write, or to whom. But...yes. That is probably a thing that will happen. A series, if you will. Stay tuned, kids.

Things

Song of the Day: Short and Sweet by Julia Nunes

Things that are on my mind, mostly just in an attempt to organize them.

1. She is worried and it is my job to make her not worry. I don't want her to worry. I want her to be the happiest person in the world and if any worrying needs to be done I want to take care of it for her.

2. They're getting all ish'd out about moving in together. I just need to sit her down and tell her it will be okay, listen to her concerns and help her work through them. It makes me so sad to see them both backpedal away from something that will most likely make them both really happy. I know it's scary, but I hope that talking to someone on the other side of it will help.

3. Similarly, I hope my very relevant past will help with her current worries. I was scared, too. I know it's a big deal because it's total foreign ground, but I want to see her take the leap. It's not even a leap. It's a little hop that may or may not turn into a leap. Again, I know it's easy to yell, "Jump!" when you're already on the ground. But it's not like I'm yelling, "Jump into a pit of crocodiles!" I'm yelling, "Jump onto a huge fluffy pillow that you may or may not want to nap on!" ...I think I just broke the metaphor.

4. I am incredibly happy for him and so so proud. And I know it will be fine. But that won't make it any easier to watch him leave.

5. I'm so determined to do well this quarter. I feel like I have to prove that what I do takes real time and real work. I know it does, but I can feel people not taking my goals seriously. Maybe that's just paranoia.

I don't mind if you can't be with me all of the time / so be on your way / no, that is not what I wanted to say / I just want you, / no, I need you to stay. -Lullaby, Julia Nunes

But I Am Le Tired

Song of the Day: I Will Go Anywhere With You by Julia Nunes

You know when it's REALLY awesome to sleep super poorly? The night before you have two finals -.- Luckily they are music theory finals, and I know pretty much exactly how I'm going to do one both (or did; I already took one of them). I'm just grumpy because I got to bed late last night and feel like I was awake more often than I was asleep during the night. And I've gotten plenty of sleep the rest of this week, but it would have been REALLY nice to get a decent amount last night because I will be getting very little for the next week.

That being said, the reason I won't be getting much is because I'll be traveling to Disneyland, so I can't really complain =p It is rainy and windy and cold here, and in California it will at least be not windy and less cold. So that's a win in my book. I'd go to Disneyland in a damn hurricane. And hey, less-than-perfect weather conditions make for shorter lines.

I don't really have anything earth-shattering to say. I'm mostly just blogging to keep myself awake until my next final. I don't think my coffee did anything but make me have to pee. Then I'll go home and have laundry/packing to keep me busy and awake. I sound so whiny. I'm really not unhappy. Just a wee bit cranky because of my sleepiness. But my hair is freshly red and my nails are freshly purple, so...so there's that...

I should mosey off to my last final pretty soon. It's my written music theory exam, which I feel pretty confident on(inbytoforaboutofat). I'm sure there will be an obnoxious post-Disneyland blog next week.

A pirate's life is a wonderful life, a-rovin' over the sea / give me a career as a buccaneer, it's the life of a pirate for me / OH! the life of a pirate for me! / A pirate's life is a wonderful life, they never bury your bones / for when it's all over, a jolly sea rover drops in on his friend Davy Jones / OH! his very good friend Davy Jones! -A Pirate's Life, Peter Pan (I quoted that from memory and feel pretty good about myself for that)

In Which I Desire A Library

Song of the Day: Home by Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros

I miss having bookshelves. I never bought any when I moved into my apartment, mostly because there's no space for them. They would have to go in the inaccessible side of my closet, which would be a pain to get in and out considering I'll most likely be moving again this summer. But currently all of my books are in boxes which still reside on my floor, shoved as close to the walls as they can get without touching the stupid baseboard heaters. If they're not there, they're stacked in the piles of shit on my desk. I miss seeing them.

I'm currently tumbling pictures of home libraries and drooling a little. I put up one of those tumblr questionnaire things, but only one person has responded. One of them is "Describe your dream library." I really want a home library. Obviously that won't be an option for a while, but it's still nice to think about.

Natural light. Lots of it. Big windows or even glass doors that can be opened when it's warm outside. A windowseat (a comfy one, to allow someone to actually sit there for a long time while they read).

Preferably in an attic space. Obviously a big attic. But that would provide the best view and the greatest feeling of being tucked out of the way, of getting away from things for a little bit. Plus that gives it a cooler shape.

Lots of seating for all preferences. Big cushy recliner, beanbag chair, ergonomic work chairs at a big table for more studious types of reading.

No TV. No computer. Maybe a stereo because sometimes listening to music while reading is nice. CD and record collections included in the library shelves.

A rolling ladder. Because they are cool and I am short.

I'm torn between warm colors and summery-but-not-exactly-cold colors, like this:

I'm not sure why I find planning houses and rooms so comforting. I think it gives me a goal or something. Like, the places I'll live during college will never be very permanent and I'll never know how long I'll be in any of them, so my only sense of permanency comes from daydreaming about my eventual landing place. I'm not unhappy now, not in the slightest. But sometimes the idea of having a place that's truly my own where I can feel like it's ACTUALLY home is pretty appealing.

This may or may not have something to do with the fact that my parents are selling the house in which I spent most of my young life. I didn't really consider that until now. I did this sort of thing before I found that out, though (as evidenced by my Dream House post a while back). I have a tendency to think a little too far ahead, and it does funny things to my brain. Not that there isn't a certain freedom to not having a real home. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.

Today is going to be long. Concert tonight. Practicing for ear training final tomorrow. Want home. Want read. Want tea. Can't sentence.

Hold me fast, hold me fast / 'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer / I will learn, I will learn / to love the sky I wander. -Hopeless Wanderer, Mumford & Sons

Git 'r Dun

Song of the Day: Sweet Pea by Amos Lee

Welp. I forgot my math book at home, so I'm without things to do until my theory teacher's office hour in an hour. I suppose I could go practice a little, but frankly I need to spare my wrists until a longer sesh this evening.

I seem to have set goals. They weren't exactly conscious, but within a short period of time I just sort of decided that I wanted to do certain things, or do them better. I figure, what better place to keep track of such things than on a blog that no one reads?

Goal 1: Eat in more often / just eat better. As thing get busier, Mike and I have noticed a tendency in ourselves to just pick up food while we're out because we frankly don't feel like going home and cooking after a long day. The problem is, what's easiest tends to be places like Wendy's. That's totally fine once in a while, but I'm pretty sure I've gained back the weight I lost in the fall and I don't care for it. I'm making a conscious effort to eat more fruit (that's going well so far; I've been drinking orange juice daily, and upping the amount of apples and strawberries I buy). I'm going to try turning to better food when I want snacks, like an apple or toast (because in my house, the health nut purchases bread and we end up with Honey Oat or Whole Wheat, which is a good thing). I'm going to try to start making toast in the mornings to take with me in the car, because I always get ravenous halfway through my first class, and while I bring a Clif Bar with me, it just doesn't quite say "good morning." So I buy coffee and a bagel and don't feel so awesome (mostly because of the coffee).

Goal 2: Increase practice time (aim: 14 hours/week). I'm sick of getting to lessons and realizing I've made little or no progress. I'm here to dedicate myself to music, so I'm doing myself a disservice if I don't practice like I should.

Goal 3: Set aside an hour before bed every night for reading. Simply put, I miss reading. I'm not in literary classes, so I'm not forced to read anything, and I'm not using my time wisely outside of class. So from 9-10 (yes, I have a bedtime of 10:00) is designated as reading time. It also serves as a nice wind-down from the day, rather than doing math homework right before trying to sleep.

Goal 4: Drink more water. I don't drink nearly enough, and I never have. I got a little better for a while, but I slacked off and I need to jump back on the hydration wagon. I bought a water bottle today, and my goal is to fill it twice every day. Obviously I have a little leeway because I also drink tea and orange juice pretty regularly, but with one mug/cup of each of those per day, I'm still looking at 1.5 bottles of water (the bottle is 24 oz.). I think it'll make me feel better (even if it means the sacrifice of peeing a little more often), and I'll probably lose a little weight and see my skin get a bit healthier.

I thought I would have more than 4 goals, but maybe not. And maybe that's okay. Too many goals can bog a person down. These 4 are very doable, and I can work toward all of them simultaneously without feeling overwhelmed. And they'll work together to make me healthier, both physically and mentally. Then maybe I'll be like this:

I am ready for spring. I am ready for warm. I am ready to actually want to go outside again. (And I'm ready to look good doing it =p ) Edit: I also hope to get my next tattoo within a year. S there's that. Yaaaaay needles.

Be kind to your baby / There be a change in me / Baby please make a change / I think it will do you good. -Baby Please Make A Change, Hugh Laurie

Broken

Song of the Day: Chicago by Sufjan Stevens

It's time once again for Emma Has Odd Dreams And Tries To Think Too Hard About Them! *applause*

So let's just dive right in with last night's dream. It played out very much like a movie; it started with the very end of my fall and me hitting the ground. Hard. I laid there, my eyes closed, telling myself I was going to die and to just fall asleep and let it happen. But I didn't die.

There was a flashback of sorts to how I got there. It was a twisted version of 9/11 (though I referred to it as 9/11 in the dream). There was a plane that crashed across the top of a huge building, skimming off the parking garage (don't ask me how there was a parking garage at the top of a skyscraper). I was in one of the cars that got launched off the building; for some reason I decided to fling myself out of the car. I remember really experiencing the fall, and noticing how the blind panic of a short fall goes away after the first few seconds when you have a lot of distance to cover. And then I slammed into the concrete. And didn't die.

I'm fuzzy on how I got back to my mother. As will happen in dreams, it just sort of took care of itself. She didn't seem that churned up about it. She was glad I was okay and she hugged me, but that was sort of it. I hurt all over, I could feel major bruises all over my body and I just didn't feel right. I went to look in a mirror. I was right, there were bruises everywhere, already tinged green. Parts of my body looked like they were a little out of alignment, like I had seams that weren't lining up quite right. And my face. It was all in one piece, but something was REALLY wrong with it. Something about my eyes was majorly out of sorts; I think there was too much skin around them or something. It was like the most subtly grotesque mask of my real face.

My mother's attitude was reflected in everyone else. No one seemed to care much that I had been in the 9/11 attacks and survived a fall from a skyscraper. And while I should have just been super happy and really thankful that I was alive at all, I found myself being really frustrated that no one had worried about where I was, or was worrying about my state now. No one hugged me, no one cried, no one asked me how I was doing, no one rushed me to the hospital. My mom and sister actually took me out shopping with them. Like everything was totally fine. Like nothing had happened.

That was kind of it. Everything made a lot of sense (not necessarily logic obviously, but everything was clear and there weren't a lot of time skips), and I just kept being ticked off that I was totally broken and no one seemed to give a shit. Which is really whiny and I hate that sort of mentality, but there it is. I don't really have any sort of insight as to the meaning behind it; I'm not broken in any sense right now. I'm really solidly whole, as a matter of fact. And that's not really something new.

Abbie, you know me better than anyone. Feel free to take a stab at it.

'Cause I toss / and I turn / and it doesn't feel right / Oh, save me from wakin' up tonight. -First Impressions, Julia Nunes

Love or Some Shit Like That.

Song of the Day: Stay Awake by Julia Nunes

All right, kids. It's February. And February brings with it one of my least favorite days: Valentine's Day.

"But Emma," you may say, "you have a boyfriend; shouldn't you be excited about the prospect of such a day?" And to you I say HUSH, FIEND.

My dislike of the day was never predicated on the fact that I had no significant other, so the fact that I have one now does nothing to assuage my disgust. It is a stupid day and that's all there is to it (isn't it funny how I say that and have yet to go into quite a bit more detail?). Let me explain how each demographic is supposed to feel about Valentine's Day:

Men in a relationship: "Oh god, she's going to expect jewelry. She doesn't wear fancy necklaces that often...I'll give her nice earrings. No, she already has earrings just like the ones I'd get her. That ring is nice. Oh no, a ring is my only choice. Now I have to ask her to marry me. I can't get married. YOU JUST GET A BOX OF CHOCOLATES, YOU MANIPULATIVE BITCH."

Women in a relationship: "No no, it's a GOOD thing. It's a nice easy day for guys to remember; it's an opportunity for them to make up for not getting us stuff for our birthday or forgetting our anniversary. We don't want much, just dinner at a nice restaurant, 12 red roses and diamonds in one form or another."

Single men: "Welp. I'm gonna go get wasted with my other single bros."

Single women: "I'M GOING TO DIE ALOOOOOONE!!" *chugs wine* *binges on chocolate*

And I hate that when a single person dislikes Valentine's Day, people are like, "Stop being a bitter single, it's just about love in general, not romantic love." Or, my personal favorite, "We're enjoying OUR love, not rubbing it in the faces of other people." Oh. Oh, sweetheart. Yes you are. I've actually heard someone say that single people shouldn't be out on Valentine's Day because then it's their own fault they're sad because they are forcing themselves into the situation of watching happy couples celebrating their relationships. So now, in addition to being reminded of their singleness (which, in our society, is portrayed as an inherently BAD thing, which is utter excrement), people who aren't in relationships aren't even allowed to GO OUTSIDE because then they're just making THEMSELVES feel bad. Okay. Just so we're clear. And you're still trying to convince me it's about "all types" of love?

Bullshit.

It's about romantic love (true, my dad used to bring home flowers for my sister and me as well as my mom on VDay, but that's because my dad is awesome). Yes, there is a little part of me that dislikes it because it rubs relationships in the face of singles. It says, "If you don't have a significant other, you DON'T GET to participate in this holiday." But there are other reasons. Red and pink look stupid together. The gamble chocolates are rarely very good. Valentine's Day cards are generally sappy. It's an excuse for girls to justify asking guys to spend a lot of money on them. It can make some single people feel awful. It's DUMB.

And like, doing something for someone on Valentine's Day almost makes it an obligation instead of a genuine gesture. As I type this I'm realizing you could apply the same logic to Christmas, but for some unjustifiable reason the two seem different to me. Like Christmas is about loving and appreciating EVERYONE in your life, regardless of what TYPE of love you feel for them, and purchased gifts aren't necessary for that. But there's a very prescribed list of things you give to / do for your lady on Valentine's Day. You take her out to dinner. You give her something sparkly. You give her roses. You fuck her a little bit. Maybe you get coerced into watching a Meg Ryan film or something. You go to bed feeling like you've dodged a bullet and can't afford so much as new socks for the next 7 months.

My point: it's dumb. It just feels contrived and forced and obligatory and manipulative and greedy.

I want to yell at all the bummed-out single people, "You are all loved! This holiday is stupid and is trying to make you feel bad about your situation! NOWHERE is it written that you are less complete without a spouse! PLEASE value yourself as a person and stop believing this bullshit that you are only worth something as part of a couple!"

A disclaimer: I'm not saying that being in love isn't awesome. It really is. But my point is that Valentine's Day isn't about love the way everyone says it is. If it were, there would just be ads everywhere saying, "Tell someone you love them and mean it." No. It's about getting stuff. Which is such a hideous use of someone's love for you.

I'm not really rant-and-rave angry, just DEEPLY disappointed in humans. Love isn't always romantic, and gifts do not a solid relationship make. No one type of love is stronger than another, they all deserve celebration and they all deserve it DAILY, not annually.

End rant.

I'm glad I didn't die before I met you. -First Day of My Life, Bright Eyes

Shivery Blahs

Song of the Day: Turn Me On by Norah Jones

I was reading, but I started to get a headache. So I was practicing, and then my wrist started to ache (but I practiced for over an hour, so my attention span is doing better!). So now, pending the next ache, I am blogging out of sheer boredom.

My next vlog is (at the suggestion of a commenter) a "Favorites" video. Basically how I constructed it was I found a survey via the intergoogles that asked about random favorite things and picked my favorites. I'm hoping Mike will be in it with me, because I think both of us sharing our answers and talking about them will be more interesting than me just listing off things I like. Anywho, I'm giving myself a chance to go into more detail with my own answers here. Enjoy your preview. Or something.

Book: The Phantom Tollbooth. It's one of those books that offers something new each time I read it because between readings I've gained knowledge and experiences, so I get something different out of it every time. It's absolutely brilliant and it wears layers so that you can read and enjoy it at any age.

Disney film: It's a 3-way tie between Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, and Robin Hood. I feel like Robin Hood doesn't always get as much time in the limelight as other Disney films, which is sort of a shame because it's really wonderful. Plus how great are foxes? Answer: Very.

Word: See my previous post.

Color: Changes a lot. Usually it's red or green depending on my mood, but purple is entering the picture more often these days.

Sport: Obviously I don't play any, but I like watching soccer and am warming up to MMA.

Name: I really like Sam for a girl. Not entirely sure what my favorite guy name is...

Childhood book: I loved so many, but one that sticks in my mind is The Rainbow Goblins. The artwork is absolutely incredible. It's about these 7 goblins and each one is a different color, and they lasso rainbows and drink the colors. It's better than it sounds. I also loved Grandfather Twilight. Very few words, but again, beautiful illustrations.

Candy: Mike & Ikes or Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Depends on whether I want more fruity sweet or a heavier chocolatey sweet. Omnomnomnom.

Flower: Sunflowers for looks, lilacs for smell.

Planet: Jupiter. It's the only one in our solar system that creates its own energy rather than feeding off the energy of the sun.

...I am still bored. Also people keep opening the door and it is COLD. Normally on Thursdays I'd go home between my morning class and my afternoon class, but it's not worth struggling across the ice any more than I already have to. Grawr. I'm tempted to go throw a post on my tumblr like "Ask me stuff, I'z boreddddd" but I hate being that person. Plus people are probably out doing things with their days. Plus most of my tumblr followers are passive. Le sigh.

You should know that I love it when you sing / But I'd love it even more if you'd stop hitting things / Regardless, I'd be heartless without you. -The Debt, Julia Nunes

"Always"

Song of the Day: Under Pressure by Queen

Have I ever blogged about the word "always"? I don't think I have. If I have, go ahead and just disregard this post, another one will be along eventually.

I think my favorite thing about the word "always" is its ironic stretchiness. It's such a relative word. If you say "I've always loved cantaloupe," you mean you've loved it for the duration of your memory; so for people in my age range, that's probably around 16-17 years. When people say, "That's the way things have always been," they could be referring to as long as a country has been legally recognized, as long as a law has been in effect, as long as they've been married, as long as human records have been kept, as long as their family has been in America. By its very nature, it is quite a stretchy word.

It also shows up in two of my favorite book series, in two very different fashions. In Harry Potter, we have the oh-so-well-known exchange between Dumbledore and Snape: "After all this time?" "Always." Snape's ordeal with Lily (despite a considerable amount of it being his fault) was such that I can understand his inability to get over her; it's hard to have closure with someone who died. That one word had such a huge effect on the fandom; people are getting as many "Always" tattoos as they are Deathly Hallows tattoos (okay maybe not but there are still lots!). It's kind of because of that that I'm not sure I'll get an Always one. I'd like to, but a) everyone has one and b) I haven't found a design I really like. I also think it's like "lol, tattooz r 4evr hurr hurr" in addition to being cool. It would probably be hidden, and I know it would be unique because I have my own reasons for liking the word, but...I dunno. ANYWAY.

When Snape says "Always" he's talking both about the past and the future. He has resigned himself to the state of loving Lily. He sees it both in terms of he has always loved her and he always will. His situation has become static and constant; it's unchanging for him, without beginning and without end. "Static" has a more negative connotation that I intended...I guess I mean it in more of a nirvana-like setting (though considerably sadder in this instance), where it's just a state of being without definition and without temporal boundaries.

It also appears in The Hunger Games. When Katniss is falling into a drug-induced sleep, she grabs Peeta's hand and says, "Stay with me," and he responds, "Always." In addition to being stretchy, it's also a heavy word. The one word is all he needs to say for us to understand the absoluteness of his devotion (a word, by the way, that I don't particularly care for). Here it's heavy, it's simple, it's absolute, it's solid. Yes, I will always be here, whether you are asleep or awake, whether you admit to loving me or don't, whether you live or die. All of it bundled up into one word that says everything all at once.

It's such a cool word. It's stretchy, constant, fluid, solid, heavy, simple, complex, relative, subjective, poignant, terrifying and comforting. It's a word to be embraced and approached with caution. It falls like water and lands like lead. It is the loudest word you'll ever whisper. People use it to express absolutes that can't be absolute. Whenever I hear "I will always love you" (whether it's said to me or someone else), I always shrink back and think, "Don't let your mouth write checks your heart can't cash. Always is a very, very long time."

So yes. I would like it on my body. But I'm not fully sure where. And I don't want just another "Always" in tattoo-esque curly, swoopy writing that screams "I got a tattoo because I thought it would make Edward/Jacob love me." I want to love how it looks. Maybe I should just get it in typewriter script. Because books--not just books, but the ideas found in books--can last forever. And my love of the word comes from books. Wow, that's actually not a bad idea. Hm. But I should love how it looks. Because it will always be on me. And always is a long time.

Such a very long time.

Well I'll look at you and say it's the happiest that I've ever been / And I'll say I no longer feel I have to be James Dean / And she'll say Yeah well I feel all pretty happy too / And I'm always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you. -5 Years Time, Noah and the Whale

As Long As We're Swapping Stories...

Song of the Day: Black Sheep by Metric

So this post is mostly for Michael's benefit, since his own tale of medical turmoil led to a mention of my issues, which I have apparently not chronicled here. So here goes THAT fun story.

Once upon a time, I was about 11. I started having trouble exercising (couldn't complete the Pacer Test in gym, got a horrible wheezing cough if I laughed too hard, etc.), and my mom decided we should get it checked out. I went in for an allergy test (because they check for asthma at the same time). They said I had asthma, wrote a prescription for albuterol and sent me on my way.

As the years progressed, it became less and less important that I be able to run for long periods of time. I had a lot of trouble in P.E. in seventh grade, where we had to do the "Fun Run," a mile cross-country circuit of the school. It was timed, and my time was never good. I had to switch frequently between jogging and walking. I usually sprinted the last bit once I could see the finish, and I suffered for it. My throat felt like it was being shredded with every breath I took, my breathing was incredibly heavy, and if it got too bad I occasionally got a coppery (read: bloody) taste in my mouth. After a little bit this would subside and I'd cough sporadically for half an hour or so. Basically this process repeated any time I made myself run.

When I got to high school I was no longer required to take P.E. (because of IB), so it wasn't really a concern. I found that I started wishing I could run; I felt like I'd enjoy going out in the morning or evening and just running by myself. But I couldn't. I walked constantly, for a few hours at a time just to keep myself doing SOMETHING physical; even a steep-ish hill would still make my breathing heavier than any moderate-weight person's should be (I could stand to lose a little, but my BMI is fine and I was exercising regularly with no improvement in my breathing).

The summer when I was 18, my mom made me go to the doctor for a check-up on my back (she sustained pretty permanent back problems from a car accident we were in when I was 12, and is convinced to this day that I did too. I didn't). The doctor was doing all the normal check-up things they do and when she listened to my heart, she said she heard a murmur. I had a heart murmur when I was a baby, but those are common and it went away. But apparently it was back. So she recommended that even though it was faint, I go see a cardiologist.

So I saw the cardiologist. They tested me left and right. Ultrasounds, echo cardiograms, MRIs. Eventually they decided it was "patent ductus arteriosus" and "patent foramen ovale." In non-medical-jargon, that means little holes. Those little holes allow a more-than-normal amount of blood to go to my lungs. I don't mean my lungs are full of blood, I mean the capillaries or whatever are working too hard. At the time, the cardiologist told me to exercise as much as I could but to not aggravate the symptoms (aka not to push myself to the point of seeing little lights before my eyes); he said he couldn't foresee any complications arising unless I got pregnant and went into labor, which might put strain on my heart and make the holes bigger. Obviously that particular issue isn't in my immediate future. But I left slightly ticked that their message was "Yes, there is a problem. Yes, it inconveniences you. No, we're not doing anything about it."

My personal favorite test was the Trans-Esophogial Echo; they knocked me out for about fifteen minutes, shoved a camera down my throat and took a look around (I can only assume it had some sort of X-ray or similar imaging properties, since you can't see the heart through the esophagus). They made me gargle this stuff that made my throat go numb (because I was supposed to be awake to swallow the camera), at which point I begged them to put me to sleep because it felt awful, like I was simultaneously suffocating and gagging. They must have done something because my mom was in the room and said I looked like I was starting to panic and then suddenly just sort of relaxed and looked like my IQ equalled my age.

Upon waking up from that, I threw up (I always do with general anesthesia; I've been told since then that they can give me different stuff that shouldn't make me sick. That pissed me off because I TOLD them I puked the last time I went under). Anyway, I went home, puked on the driveway, and then (feeling much better) I flopped down on my bed and slept off the rest of the drugs. The MRI was actually after this, but they all found the same thing so the order doesn't really matter.

They've told me different things, but I THINK this is the truth: the heart problem and my asthma are two separate problems, but they work together and whatever damage is done by the too-much-blood-in-my-lungs-when-I-exercise thing is irreversible. It's not life-threatening, but it's quality-of-life threatening. I can't run. Hills intimidate me (I climb them anyway because fuck that). The last time my dad and I went hiking the trail was steep and he--my 60+-year-old, slightly overweight father with back problems--was having an easier time than I was. Silly. And they won't even cut me open and give me a proper battle wound for my trouble--if they ever do fix it, they'll go up through a vein in my leg and I'll be left with a tiny scar, if I have one at all.

So yes. My heart problem that practically isn't even a problem. There it is.

I want to buy summer dresses/clothes. Don't ask me why I suddenly give two shits about dresses. They just sound REALLY comfy. Also, warmth. Winter days like today are so beautiful, but it's really been a half-assed winter and if it doesn't plan on snowing, I vote for spring.

I'm going swing dancing (at the school's Swing Club) tonight for the first time in a LONG time, and I'm kind of really intimidated. I haven't danced in a long time and I don't know anybody (Emily will be there, but she's bringing Jake so they'll be doing their thing the whole time). Mike promised to try it next week but is sick tonight and doesn't feel up to going. So I'm making myself go even if I'm uncomfortable. And that is all I have to say.

tl;dr: I wear dresses now--dresses are cool.

Got up before dawn / Went down to the racetrack / Riding with the windows down / Shortly after your first heart attack. -Pale Green Things, The Mountain Goats