I hung out with my kids this morning at Starbucks. Brings back memories of when we would hang out over the summer and goof off. I'm over 2 decades old but when we were goofing off around the grocery store having a blast picking out lunch, an employee asked us if we needed any help and glared at us as if we were hoodlums. Yes I fit right in with my kids but today was the first time I truly felt old. I can't wait to be a parent and have kids of my own. I mean, I can wait but being responsible for these kids for 5 days out of the week was such a blast.

While I was out, my other baby was in getting groomed for the first time. Poor guy was stark naked when he came home. Every year around this time he gets itchy skin. Golden retrievers tend to have hip problems and sensitive skin. Both of which my baby has. He's had to wear the cone of shame for the past couple of weeks. He can't sneak up on you now. He can barely fit through the hallways of my house banging into chairs and doorways. He is such a cute clumsy pup.

The rest of the day I spent hiding from the spiders I crawled through while I was weeding the yard. There's this show called intervention I was watching. They follow around an addict for awhile before gathering the family to intervene and try to send the addict to rehab. All the addicts are super extreme. I feel like this show over simplifies things. It tries to capture the feelings underlying the addict from a childhood trauma or family problems. But what about the addicts who are suffering who have the perfect family and had no childhood problems? What about the partier who takes things too far and continues the drug use outside the party? There's this girl I know that has a great family who loves her and spoils her to death. She started partying because she could and there wasn't much else to do. Her lifestyle took her all over the place except college. It never truly became an issue to the point where someone would find it intervention worthy but it did take her far enough to cause serious damage. A young drunk and high girl took a trip that landed her in a stranger's hotel room. She wound up pregnant with a guy she didn't know, not even his name. Considering what could've happened, she was lucky. She was lucky she didn't catch a life threatening s.t.d. But still, she had no excuse for the decisions she made. No family problems or childhood issues. Grew up in a fantastic neighborhood, went to great schools. How do you deal with something like that? No underlying issues to work through to solve the problem that's causing the addiction. I don't understand that TV show, "Intervention". After seeing one episode, I can't imagine watching that as entertainment.

Real life drug addictions involve more than just solving some hidden issue. When you are physically addicted to a drug, the brain changes to compensate for the drug so you need the drug to be "normal". It also causes the user to increase the amount used to get that same high feeling thus continuing the addiction further. Every addiction like this has severe side affects that can eventually lead to death due to various complications. Past the physical side of addiction, psychologically people get addicted because it's more than a drug, it's a lifestyle. Many people who are addicted to smoking cigarettes enjoy the social aspects of talking to other smokers, etc. Others feel psychologically dependent on drugs to numb bad feelings left from other areas of their life. Most people on the show "Intervention" are suffering from both physical and psychological drug addictions but the psychological dependency is very clear and obvious that they are numbing some greater issue. They try and solve the psychological issues with the family and then send the addict off to rehab for their physical addiction. The episode I watched they followed up on the addict as he relapsed several times and currently was barely 30 days clean. I don't think the show was entertaining and was sad and embarrassing to watch.

I start my job bright and early tomorrow morning. First impressions are everything. We'll see how it goes.

Waste not Fresh Tears over Old Griefs

I believe Euripides wrote that. I wish I knew this saying a long time ago. I'm the type of person to dwell on the past, at times unknowingly. My boyfriend is so amazing. He treats me so well and every date he takes me on feels like the first date. But for some reason every time he tells me he's going out to a bar with his buddies, whether he's drinking or not, I have a mini freak out. We are almost in constant contact and see each other almost everyday. He has never done anything wrong, is truthful, and treats me with respect. Our relationship has comparatively been better than anyone else's I know. But for some reason I can't get out of my head that fear that the past has left me with. Every relationship prior to my current one has ended with the guy cheating on me, and usually involved alcohol. I think there's this thing called a pearl necklace. I don't know exactly what it's called but apparently it's where a girl gives a guy hickeys all the way around the neck like a pearl necklace. There was this guy I used to date in high school that showed up to school one Monday with a pearl necklace from a party he got drunk at that weekend. I took the bus with him to school, ate lunch with him, and ran into him in the hall towards the end of the school day before I noticed. He must've done a good job hiding it under his baggy coat but seriously. If you have a girlfriend how dumb can you be to go and do that. I have been dating my current boyfriend for almost 2 years now and still have had nightmares about me finding hickeys on his neck left by other girls. He would never do that and I know that he loves me more than anything but still old grieves have dug into my amygdala (meaning "almond" in Greek for its shape and is part of emotional learning in the brain as well as a large role in fear). Most of my relationships have ended similarly. There was this guy that lied to me about almost everything. I dated him for a long time and he was able to hide the fact that he was a smoker the whole time. He would come over on nights before I had a volleyball tournament and leave early to go to a party. He ended up leaving me for his ex girlfriend who would party with him. I'm definitely not a partier. My boyfriend is my best friend and I am lucky to have one of the most honest and caring guys. Yet just last night when I was leaving after our Contra dancing date he mentioned he might go over to his frat to hang out with his friends that same night. I tried not to show it but when he saw that I was worried he changed his mind to make me comfortable. Thank you mom and dad for the bad anxiety gene.

My boyfriend took me to Victoria for Valentine's day and our one year anniversary. We had so much fun and it was very romantic. I'm allowed to get into bars there so we went out a lot to fancy places, of course I drank rootbeer. We always joke about that night being our first date. At one place, we were sitting at the bar and I was drinking water while he had a beer. We were joking around talking like it was our first date and he was like "so you comin back to my hotel room?" and I joked "that's not very appropriate for our first date" and he goes "yeah well you're not that hot anyway". After that this guy on the other side of him came over and started talking with us trying to pick me up as if it was his big chance hearing me reject my boyfriend's hotel offer. There have been other times that we would be talking like it's our first date and then he would tell me that he loves me and then I would say "don't you think it's a bit early to be telling me that?". The looks on people's faces sitting near us. Priceless. There was this other time we were eating at a fancy seafood restaurant and I say "Impressive place to take me on our first date" and my boyfriend goes "Yeah well it was a tie between here and McDonalds" and the guy at the table behind us turned around and giggled. Their table was full of elderly people who kept looking over to see how our "first date" was going throughout the dinner. It was hysterical. I think one of the ladies even said good luck to my boyfriend as we were leaving.

Elderly love. I was in the bathroom at this place my boyfriend and I went Contra dancing at and couldn't help listening in to the conversation of the elderly women who were putting on their big skirts to twirl in. One woman was thanking the other for getting her out of the house to go dancing and meet lots of cute men. Well, I met a lot of those "cute" men throughout the night as well. When you are dancing this type of dance you often have a "trail partner" who is the same person you always come back to during the dance. You also dance with a lot of different people, almost everyone in a long chain. It's hard to describe but I ended up dancing with a large array of men. Old smelly ones and older frisky ones. My trail partner was an old friend who was a bit more experienced in Contra dancing than my boyfriend but my boyfriend and I plan to work up to where we are good enough to dance together. It was very cute to see elderly couples wearing matching outfits with their trail partners. Most of the women wore flowy skirts for twirling (and some of the more colorful men wore skirts as well) but the color themes between partners were evident. I guess all the real serious Contra dancers wear skirts. I'll have to go get one for next time..

Soon

Life is short. My grandparents are in town for a week or two and it's tough for me to look at them and see how much they've aged since the last time I've seen them. When I was younger I used to think that no one ever changed. No one grew old. However people were when I saw them, that's how they would be forever. Obviously since then I have learned better than that. Watching my parents age, watching my grandparents age, looking into the mirror to a more mature face has given me a strong sense of mortality. What am I going to do with my life? I feel like time is wasting and I have to hurry up and decide. Everything jumps out at me. I want to do everything, see everything, taste everything, live everywhere.

Have you ever watched a movie where everyone in it has a British accent then find yourself thinking in a British accent for the next 45 minutes? Or how about having a conversation with someone with an accent and then all of a sudden it becomes a struggle to talk to them without copying their accent? Hmm. I forget what I was going to say.. The guy who plays House has an accent in real life. I wonder if there's a youtube video of him talking with his natural accent...

I've had writers block for awhile.. I've always tried to live my life in a way that if it were a book or TV show, I'd want to watch it. Time to speed up again so I have something to write

Oh one more thing. Martin Ssempa never responded to my email. I wonder if he even read it. I did turn that in to my African literature class for extra credit along with a 2 page description of why it had to do with the class etc etc.. which got me a really good grade in the class at least.

I don't want to Run Around In Circles

My Grammy bought me a bunch of new work clothes for my new job. She made me try them on for everyone in my family. If anyone were to say they didn't like them then my Grammy would exchange them for something else. My dad warned that they better not be "slutty" because God forbid his daughter be a slut. Well, obviously they were all quite classy and formal enough to work at Nordstrom. Everyone liked my new outfits and my Pup-pup (grandpa) even took pictures. Later that evening my boyfriend of almost 2 years joined us for a family dinner. We have always been really careful in front of my parents acting more like associates than boyfriend and girlfriend. Recently my dad made a comment saying that it didn't look like I cared very much about my bf so I figured we should up the ante and hold hands in front of my parents. After my bf left and I was held hostage longer to sit and listen to my parents bicker about financials, my dad began to pick on me about my relationship once again. He tried to be sneaky about it which I found rather annoying. He listed off a bunch of failed marriages of those who got serious at a young age. He said I should date around and date lots of guys. Oh wait, but isn't there a word for girls like that? Who "date" around? Isn't that something my dad specifically said he did not want? Now he is telling me to date lots of guys. During this conversation my Grammy chimed in saying that she married my Pup-pup at 23 and they have been married for more than 50 years. Hm. I don't want to get married young. But I also don't see a reason my bf and I would ever break up. I think 23 is too young to get married. I am also a bit conservative when it comes to relationships and would not want to "date around". I think girls like that are skanks.

I think a lot of the double standards between me and my brothers have to do with the fact that I'm a girl, the only girl. But I think that my snowboard accident impacted the way they treat me as well. When I was in the 6th grade my family took a ski trip to Mt. Baker. I think this was the first time I ever saw my guardian angel. I was going down a bunny slope trying to pick up speed for a jump, as it was not unusual for me to try and keep up with my brothers. My older brother was ready to take a picture of me going off a jump so to me the stakes were high. I thought to myself, I'm on a bunny slope. I have nothing to lose. So I went as fast as I could on the icy bumpy path and just before the jump, where someone fell and made a dent before the ice froze over, I lost control and bit it. I thought it was quite funny since I got all worked up for the climax to be a train wreck. It seemed I had just got the wind knocked out of me and I lay there kind of giggling to myself probably looking like a mad woman. A snow patroler came out of no where on a snow mobile to ask if I was OK. He came from up the mountain, where I had just come from which was weird because I never saw any patrolers that early in the morning. I thought I was fine but he insisted on taking me down the mountain just to be safe. When I walked into the orange walled building, my line of vision shrunk until it was all black. I remember feeling like I was flying and I dreamt that I was overlooking the mountain. The next thing I knew there was a pleasantly plump nurse lady trying to jab an I.V. into a vain and the guy who brought me in was no where to be seen. I had to switch heads of the bed so she could try again on the other arm. I was really in a daze. I never really thought much was wrong at this point. I remember being in La La Land as they told me that there was a helicopter on standby while we waited for the ambulance to climb the mountain. Once in the ambulance, the fast turns felt like my insides were jumbling around. That was the only time my stomach hurt. It just sort of felt like I ate something my tummy didn't like and I was going to be gassy later. When I got to the hospital, it was barely 2 minutes before they had me in that big body scanner thing that you see on House. My mom was in the room with the doctor asking him what everything was but then she was kicked out when everything inside me was a blur because of all the internal bleeding. Not 10 minutes later, they were explaining to my mom that I needed exploratory surgery to figure out what was going on and off I went down the hall to the operation room. I never cried or worried one time except for this moment. They had drugs going into my I.V. and put an oxygen mask thingy on me like in the movies and picked me up and placed me onto the metal operation table. At this moment I began to freak out because they were going to cut me open and I was wide awake. I was trying to scream "I'm still awake!" when I passed out. Next thing I know I'm so thirsty I could've drank the whole entire Lake Chelan but all I was aloud to have was ice cubes. What kind of torture was this! Since they ripped open my stomach, my insides weren't quite working yet so anything I ate or drank would be immediately thrown back up or sucked out through the tube that went through my nose. I'm telling you, I had a tube coming out of every hole of my body. At this moment, the severity of what I had gone through had not hit me and all I cared about were those little ice cubes in the Styrofoam cup my mom held. The discomfort of the tubes or I.V. did not bother me as I was zoned in on those cold cubed delights. I think I remember seeing my grandma? or my aunt? I don't know because I passed out again for another who knows how long.

During this time, our family trip to Mt. Baker was cut short after just one day of being there and my brothers stayed at my grandma's house. My mom stayed with me and my dad, learning about my newly compromised immune system, cleaned my entire room at home. My dad doesn't like to do much house work and prefers that his children clean up after him so I could tell that he was a bit paranoid about his daughter. Friends and family sent flowers and teddy bears and pajamas and slippers and get well cards.

At some point either during the surgery or after, not sure when, my left lung collapsed. I remember being wheeled down some floors to this x-ray room to look at my lungs. I also had to use this special inhaler thingy that looked sorta like there was a piece of dried ice inside by the way the medicine floated out. Slowly as I began to regain strength, I had to work up to the point to where they could take some of the tubes out of my holes. The tube that went through my nose down into my stomach was connected to a machine that was constantly sucking anything out of my stomach to keep me from throwing up. They would disconnect the "suction" for periods of time to work up to the point where they could take the tube out of me completely. The first time they unhooked the tube from the machine, I sat there thinking this isn't so bad. But I must've thought too soon because the next thing I know I was leaning over the edge of my bed throwing up. Whoops. The other tubes that were down below were easily taken out as soon as I was recovered enough to walk myself to the bathroom. As for the other tubes, I had a fun time with the I.V.s they stuck in me. Every so many hours, I think it was about 8 hours, they had to change the I.V. Well, I was in the hospital for well over a week so I became the human pin cushion. They even at one point had to put an I.V. on the sensitive part of my hand opposite side of my palm. I remember the first time I woke up, besides being incredibly thirsty, I was afraid to touch my stomach. I was all bandaged up but I didn't want any of my guts to spill out. One of the nurses tripped on a cord and almost fell on me. That was it for her. My mom went and complained and got a different nurse. Also, when we found out that my spleen was the culprit and ruptured blood all over my insides, my mom asked if we could take it home in a jar. Ha. They said they had to ship it off for further testing to see if it could have been saved in the case that someone else had a similar injury. Thank God for that. I'm sure my parents would've saved it for when I was aloud to start dating to show off to any guy I brought home. Gross. Towards the end of my stay at the St. Joseph's hospital, I began to drool over food commercials. This was a good sign because it meant my insides would soon start working again. I won't mention what they had to do to jump start the engine because it was unpleasant enough experiencing it. I don't remember what the first thing was that I ate but the first thing I craved was movie theater popcorn. Weird.

I had to wait a long time before I could go back to school because of germs, etc. My spleen ruptured and was removed compromising my immune system permanently. Magically, that was the only thing wrong. Usually this injury is accompanied with broken and/or bruised ribs but I was lucky and was hit exactly in the right spot. My left lung collapsed as a result to such drastic surgery. I recently had a ultra sound for digestive problems and all that is there is this empty shadow where my spleen used to be. Like a crater inside my body. Because of that crater and the gender I was born with, I often am suffocated by my parents while my brothers get away with murder, figuratively that is.