Entertainment for the Lobster

As you all know, I have been a sun worshiper lately. My skin has turned a nice golden brown and I have been enjoying not looking like a ghost. Sadly, the first day at Lake Michigan I didn't get any additional color accept a little splotch of pink on my shoulders. Yesterday however, I got fried. My legs literally felt as if they were on fire as soon as I got out of the sun. My face was blood red, and I was hopeful that it would go away come today. However, as I was flipping around in my bed last night, I forgot how bad the burn was and landed in pain every time. I woke up this morning completely sick to my stomach, a fever of 102, a sniffly nose, and felt as if my entire body had been skinned. My legs and face still have a surface temperature of 105 and still look completely blood red. I haven't had this bad of a burn since the British Virgin Islands, 2004, when I had a horrible case of sun poisioning. 

So now I am thankful that this Memorial Day is sucky because I am stuck in bed, pushing the fluids with my legs wrapped in cool, but dry dressings. Taking a shower was probably the worst idea I have had in a while, seeing how blisters formed shortly thereafter. I am so bored and I hate just laying in bed. Your entertainment is and would be greatly appreciated.

Feels Like Home

When I found out that I was living on North Campus for freshman year I was beyond pissed. I was irate... SO MAD. I signed up for room swap instantly and actually had a room all picked out in Oxford. But then... I'm not exactly sure what happened, but things fell through and I just decided to accept the fact that I was living in Bursley. It wouldn't have hurt as much I think if I didn't apply to that stupid living learning community in Alice Lloyd... gosh I would have been sucha dork had I lived in Lloyd. But anyways..... I accepted it.

Upon move in day I was actually pleasantly surprised at how different (and nicer) it was than Markley, where I had lived for the summer. I was the very first person in my hall and because of that fact (I moved in 3 days before actual move in day) I just dropped stuff off and went back "home." If you would have asked me then I would have had no idea that that empty hall, 4th Van Hoosen, would become my home. 

I joked around with my parents saying that I would have an easy time remembering which hall I was in because it had Van in the name. But if I am being honest, every time I approached the end of the east connector and saw the signs pointing to which way the halls went... I was thankful that I didn't see Van Duren at the beginning of the year because those Vans would have confused the heck out of me. 

I have to admit that the first few days in the hall I was not very hopeful. I had a friend in 2nd Van Hoosen and hung out with those girls a lot. My roommate and I had made friends with the "tall guys" across the hall, one had a pretty impressive beard. Again.. if you would have asked me then I would have never been able to guess that I would have been doing one of those guy's laundry mid-semester. Other than that, we didn't talk to anybody. We went to dinner just us two for a couple days... and then the first football game came. 

I had told Joe, who at the time went by "Joe Hall," that I was so sad I didn't get football tickets. On that first football saturday, when everyone was making their way down the Big House.. I was super depressed. However, Joe called me randomly from a Bursley Baits bus saying that a girl would sell me her extra ticket that her roommate had, and she happened to live in 2nd Van Hoosen. Talk about fucking fate right there. Getting a ticket to that first football game was the start to a lot, a lot of things. I went to the game with my roommate, my neighbor, and a friend of his. When he told me her name I actually remember myself thinking of lots of suckers and various pieces of gum. My roommate left the game early... leaving me with our neighbor and quite honestly I didn't really know what to do with him because I hadn't really talked to him before this point. So, we walked home together, or to the bus stop I should say, and actually had a pretty deep conversation for sitting curbside. We went back to the Burs and I decided to treat us to our first of many Blue Apple pizzas that my neighbor sooooo promised he'd return the favor sometime in the year, and since it was the beginning I believed him.... but I'm still waiting on that whole pizza :P

That night the very, very first brick of the next 8 months was laid. I remember it like it was yesterday. The receptors in my nose still hadn't adjusted to the smell of the dorm yet, and it was rather warm inside. I can remember laying in my bed, with my mysterious new neighbor along side of me. We chatted for a while, but there was an instant, where we both locked eyes, and in that moment of time, we were stuck. We were completely lost in each other, or at least I was completely lost in him. I remember looking into his eyes feeling like I had known him for years, but yet knew absolutely nothing about him, or what would happen in the next 8 months. I still believe that it was that moment, before I knew anything about him or even myself, that I fell completely in love with him. Even though I claim that I didn't know it then, apart of me did. 

It was after my relationship with my mysterious neighbor developed that I had the confidence to reach out to other people in the hall. But it wasn't really until the Ohio State game that I met my true soul mates. For some odd reason this girl a couple of rooms down from me came into Joe's room as we were playing COD and started talking about this guy named Steven (not her boyfriend)... who I happened to have had history with... and that led us into a tour of her room. I was honestly a little scared when I walked in and saw all these signs all over the place saying things like "Sweat before you get wet" or "Don't Eat That" well maybe not those exact words but you get the point. Turns out however, once they pulled out their No No Box I fell in love again... only with these girls, and I knew that we had to be friends. Little did they know I had a No No Drawer of my own. They came to my birthday dinner, made me cute cards and gave me a random assortment of party things. From there on, our friendship with each other only blossomed. I now consider these two girls, or "The Celebrities of the Hall," my absolute best friends who are going to be at my fucking wedding. 

Then there was muffin boy. I was sitting out in the elevator lobby by myself studying when this dark boy, who happened to have very western facial features, offered me a muffin. I couldn't resist, and within 5 minutes he had his chair, book bag, and bag full of muffins out at the table with me. It was the start of a beautiful friendship. Like said before, there was just this moment where I made a note to myself that I knew that I would look back on, and that it would make sense. This boy has put up with SO much of my crap I can't even begin to explain. From being my on call, 24 hours a day 7 days a week shrink, to holding my vomit bag in the back of the cab.. to rubbing my back and drying my tears when my heart got shattered so many times.. to never saying "I told you so," somewhere in between all of that, muffin boy also became one of my best friends. Thus, "Cause we're the 5 best friends that anyone could have" originated. 

I could go on for paragraphs and paragraphs about what an amazing 8 months it was living in 4th Van Hoosen, but I think it was pretty self explanatory in the ones above. The thing is, I was so upset when I found out I was living on North Campus, thought of it as a death sentence nonetheless. Something that appeared to be so horrible and tragic, turned out to be one of the best, if not the best experience of my life thus far. There are so many individuals in 4VH whose presence in my life shaped who I am today; and for that I will forever be grateful. My roommate, who taught me to be tolerable. The tall guys across from me, who were my protectors. My mysterious neighbor, who I am still completely in love with and still remains a mystery to me. My Big Mike and Little Robbie who always provided me with a laugh on the way to the bathroom as they stared into their computers. My one ZTA sister, who kept my crown on straight. My second best, who gave great massages and would do just about anything for me. My son, who kept quiet even when I didn't (whoops :P). My GALEN, who is too righteous for any other name but her own, that allowed me to sleep in her bed after nights I couldn't exactly make it up to mine. My R.A., who provided me with tons of advice and balloon animals (they get expensive!) My Sergeant Snacky, who provided my drunken nights with "pizza nuggets." My fellow redheads, who made me less self conscious about my own head of red. 

And my best friends: muffin boy and the celebrities of the hall, who loved me when it was hard to love myself.

The point is; sometimes something happens that seems like the end of the world... but it's what you make of it. Something great can come from just about anything, if you want it to. Maybe something that hurts so much now... in a few months from now will finally make sense... and in that moment of realization..it will all be worth it. 

It may seem like the end of the world now, but in reality it may only be the beginning. 

Creepin' Up

It's hard when so many things around you make you want to use. It could be something as simple as hearing a song, finding an old t-shirt, coming across a picture, or even just laying in bed. It doesn't matter what you do, how hard you try, if you really stop thinking about the hectic life around you.. it'll creep up. It'll slowly enter your conscious and sooner than you know it, it's all you can think about. Why is it so easy one moment, but so hard the next? And why is it so easy to go from one to the other. Even though you are aware of the reality that you are an addict, and that you need the drug, not the other way around, you can't hope that maybe someday.... it will need you. 

To go completely off topic, I never thought I would grow so attached to "aquacise." It has become the highlight of my week. The old women are just so happy to see me, and I got to help instruct the class today. However, if I take one thing from this class it's this: do not talk to anyone over the age of 65 about politics. You will not win. 

Heroine

The thing about drugs is that they trick you into believing you need them. That with out them, your life will be painful. Once you become addicted, you need the drug. It doesn't need you... and that is the way it will always be. A hopeless addict... shooting up at the littlest sign of discomfort. You hope that the drugs will fill that part of you that is missing.. that makes you want to use in the first place. But then you realize... especially after you see life without it.. that it doesn't really fill anything at all. 

The high wears off. It goes away; and you're stuck wanting more. It's only temporary... coming and going when it pleases. And then... when you least expect it, the urge to use is back almost as soon as it left. The only way to make it return is to surrender to it... to tell it you need it, tell it you want it and track it down, wait up for it into the darkest hours of the morning, tell it your sorry you went away. You're an addict... you'll do whatever it takes to get it back in your hands, even though it will do nothing to stay there. 

You are exactly my brand of heroine. 

Toolbox

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now. 

No I don't. Yes I do. I don't know. I want more than anything to feel like I can call you, talk to you, text you, feel like you haven't just disappeared from my life. But at the same time I'm so angry. But at the same time I miss you. But at the same time I don't want to talk to you. But at the same time the only thing I want is to talk to you. 

It's like a drug. Not a good drug, a bad one. You become addicted to it. You know it's so bad for you but once you're addicted... you need it to function. It becomes apart of who you are, it tells you you don't deserve better. It wants you to need it. Then something happens that makes you want to quit.. and you do. But then, the withdrawals kick in. You want more than anything to kill the urge by using, and it would be so, so easy to. All you would have to do is just shoot up.. and the pain is gone. It would feel so good. But you fight it because you know it's for the best... and that you'll get your life back on track. The pain you have to endure now is only temporary. You suffer a little bit now, in order to feel better later.

But it sure would feel good, to feel good now.   

The Big Kahuna

What would you keep from someone... if you knew that they'd never find out? 

Good friends tell friends things they should know. Good friends also keep things from friends until the time is right. Today, more than two months after...the time was right, and though I wish I would have knew sooner... a part of me is glad that I didn't. For once someone protected me from the truth. Because quite honestly... before this weekend, I probably couldn't have handled that piece of information. It's funny how certain people know you better than you know your self sometimes. I'm glad I know now.. and it's just one more of the many reasons as to why this is right. 

I hate hurting. I absolutely hate it. I wish I could just forgive like before... and move on. I wish that I could let go as easily as before... but this time it's not like that. See, every time that I forgive and move forward... there have been no repercussions for what has happened. Kind of like a get out of jail free card times seven. If any one is to blame for me getting hurt.. it is me. I let this happen to myself...I was trusting and I believed...and what happens.. the same thing that has happened multiple times before. That's what happens when you truly love someone; you get hurt. That's what happens when you don't truly love someone; you hurt them. 

History tends to repeat itself. So why am I so naive to think that it wouldn't just one more time? People don't just change. People lie. It's not that people can't, it's they don't want to. It's not that people forget, it's that it wasn't important enough to remember. Some people obtain happiness by receiving, and some people obtain happiness by giving. Which one are you?

One day.... I won't have to protect my heart from the person I love.... they'll want to protect it for me. Not only from them, but from the rest of the world and all the horrible things in it. One day there will be a person who couldn't imagine of ever hurting me...and will make it their sole purpose not to. One day someone will rightfully earn my trust, and not expect me to just believe in something that hasn't ever been shown. One day someone will be understanding and patient if they break my trust...and not get mad if I'm upset. One day someone will look at me and see more than enough, actually, they will see SO MUCH, and not emptiness. One day someone will come home with a piece of oreo cheesecake for me just because, and not because I had to ask (I said just because right?). One day someone will provide me with some metaphorical super glue to keep all the pieces of my heart together, instead of smashing it with a hammer. One day..someone will come along and make me realize why it never worked out with anyone else before.....and i'll believe it.

It'd be easy for me to deal with this situation exactly how I have in the past.... get mopey for a week or two..don't eat...etc etc.. but it's not going to be like that. In fact, I won't allow it to be like that. I looked back at my posts from when I was in a very similar, well almost exact situation a few weeks ago and decided to remind myself of my own advice. It is as followed: 

 "This is me damn it! I look the way I look, and my hair may not be one color but I find it intriguing. I think the way I think, I feel the way I feel, and I love the way I love.  I am a whole complex. Take me... or leave me. Accept me.. or walk away. You can sit and cry over the people who don't want you, or you can dream of the person that will. I'd much rather wait for the person who can assure me I'm everything (even if I am not), than to settle for someone who constantly questions if I am. 

I am good enough. And one day... someone will see that. But as of right now.. the only person I have to be good enough for, is myself. 

And I am."

On a happy note. Today was great. I spent most of it with Saddish. I never knew it was possible to miss someone that much. It is truly relieving to know I have such a great friend who knows me so incredibly well. I am so thankful for everything he has done for me, and protected me from.  

What would you tell someone... even if you knew they would never have to find out? 

There is no pillow as soft as a clear conscience.

 

Back at Square One (not the big kahuna)

I want to create a visual. Lets start with this: somebody cuts you. Maybe on accident, maybe on purpose. Or, maybe not on purpose but for sure not on accident. But it is okay, because with time, wounds heal. Picture it, a cut healing. It bleeds a bit, then forms a scab, then eventually, new skin forms over top of it. Now, lets imagine that our cut is in the scab stage.. and it gets ripped off. It bleeds out and the healing process starts all over again. Now lets assume that you are so active that the scab is constantly getting ripped off.. it hurts and bleeds out every time.. until you eventually decide to stop doing whatever it is that makes this happen. I mean, so many things could go wrong in the healing process if you jump back in too quickly.. risk of infection, ugly scarring, itchiness, and pain. But it's so hard when you love something so much, to not do it even though you got hurt.  So maybe after a few times of leaving the wound open, you decide to cover it and treat it with some antibiotic ointment, and you get right back into action, this time with protection. For the first time.. after you finally start to treat your cut, it starts to heal, and you are back in the game. But then the same jerk who cut you in the first place decides to rip off the band aid and instead of just picking off the scab, picks up a knife and re-cuts the wound that has been reopened and healed so many times before...and before you know it, you're back at square one.