Friday, August 17, 2012

my last week in the city that invented television.

this is becoming a habit.

i was going through my tumblr and there was a link that said OH HEY I BLOGGED so i click on it, and it leads me to a blog post that i wrote on this day a year ago.

it was about how i was moving back to alma the next day for RA training and i hadn't packed yet.

i go to alma tomorrow. i'm sitting here blogging.

have i packed yet?

nooooooo.

this week has been especially irksome for me. and now i want to tell you about it. if i can even remember what i did this week. i was trying to tell jacob about it last night when he got back from camping in the wilderness alone for four days (my boyfriend is a guitar playing poem writing viking) and i couldn't remember for the life of me what i did on wednesday.

and then i was like, OH WAIT, I WATCHED THE DARK KNIGHT WITH HANNAH AND WE SQUEALED OVER HEATH LEDGER.

right.

but anyway, this week has been stupid. just stupid. so i just didn't pack.

monday i still felt relatively poopy from my zoloft. so i watched pocahontas, thought about how christian bale can't POSSIBLY voice thomas even though IMDB never lies, and then i was like, man, pocahontas is a really depressing movie and this is the only time where i don't want to see the union flag because governor ratliffe and britain are just kind of being big ugly douchebags, and ratliffe and cogsworth are the same person and that's kind of neat. oh, mel gibson can sing? since when did that happen?

i think too much when i watch movies. you should've seen when i watched inception.

i told my mother we had one week to finish season one of chuck. she came in halfway through season two and i firmly believe that chuck season one is the best television ever to air in the existence of television (which, by the way, was invented in my hometown. you can thank me later.) so we spent some quality time in the basement with chuck bartowski.

i have converted my mom into a chuckster.

bryce larkin: hey, chuck. did you miss me?
chuck: EKASJHGSDKJHG
end of episode: chuck theme music.
my mother: BRYCE! WHY DOES HE ALWAYS RUIN CHUCK'S LIFE? EMILY, WE HAVE TO WATCH THE NEXT EPISODE!
me: you have professional development tomorrow. you need to sleep.
my mother: but... chuck...

success, ladies and gentlemen. that is the sound of success.

tuesday wasn't a stupid day. i had my very last therapy session, which was nice, and i told her all about how shitty my weekend was because of zoloft, and she was like, oh, that's fine, as long as you're feeling better and still taking it and you have a therapist at school right? i think we've done good work this summer.

then i went to the mall with sam, who i've known since i was like... five or something, and he's in a pretty intense bromance with my brother, and we had lunch together and talked about all kinds of things like awkward erections and trans-vaginal ultrasounds while eating subway.

i don't pretend to be normal.

after dinner my mom and i walked to the library to return the fault in our stars. when i put that book into the dropbox, i thought two things.

1. IT'S GONE. MY FEELS. THEY'RE GONE. THANK GOD.
2. that's a really good book. i'll miss it.

we watched more chuck. finished season one. my mother demanded season two. i told her to go to bed. she had a sixty mile bike ride the next morning.

last night, while i was recounting my week to my boyfriend, i was like, what the hell did i do on wednesday? like, i got up at eight and went to the chiropractor and got adjusted, and i scheduled my MRI and all that fun stuff, and i sat around for a while, but then what i did i actually do?

hannah came over. we watched the dark knight. i think hannah almost peed her pants. that's a general dark knight response.

then we realized that the news anchor that the joker hangs upside down on gotham television was part of the brat pack. you know, the dorky redheaded kid from the breakfast club.

i just blew your mind with IMDB knowledge.

of course, i spent an indecent amount of time trolling the andrew garfield tag on tumblr and feeling extensively guilty that i lust after a british actor that's almost twenty-nine years old when i'm in a two year serious relationship that will probably end in marriage.

then my mother and i took a walk and talked about teaching ideas and we watched chuck season two.

my mother: is that the guy from the green mile?
me: yes, his name is michael clark duncan.
my mother: i should remove that IMDB app from your phone.

now thursday, yesterday, was my stupidest day in a long time. hold onto your butts. (jurassic park? someone? anyone?)

i overslept. granted, it's my last day to sleep in until like... thanksgiving. but i way overslept and i was like, OH MAN I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF TO DO

so obviously, i spend an hour looking at pictures of andrew garfield. he is so attractive it should be illegal.

after lunch i pluck up the courage to call the music store. i've hated calling businesses my whole entire life, which is probably due to the terrible speech impediment that i had when i was younger, and then i developed anxiety. my therapist and i talked extensively about why i hate calling businesses, and i just hate sounding stupid over the phone and dealing with cranky people that don't understand what i need because i'm too anxious to say it properly.

this, children, is why i take antidepressants.

the music store man is nice. yes, they have cello strings and if i take in my cello, they'll string it for me. i don't know how to string my own cello.

i pack up estlin (my cello), get in the car, and head to the music store, which is like, a mile from my house.

it's not there.

i sit in the parking lot. freak out a bit. look it up on my phone. my phone tells me to go somewhere stupid. i go home half an hour later and look up the address.

head back out into the rain. drive for another half hour trying to find this effin' address. park in various places. scream and hit my steering wheel. shed a few tears and scream "THIS PLACE DOES NOT (insert eff bomb here) EXIST!"

find the address in the phone book. it's the place where it used to be. they didn't change their address in the phone book.

drive for another half hour. get directions from my phone. of course, i'd driven by it at least five times. all of this is happening within walking distance of my house. i'm pissed off. and it's raining and i can't get my cello out of the case.

the music guy was nice in person, too. he liked my cello. he strung it and tuned it. and it was only twelve bucks.

then i got home and i traced 35 fish onto pieces of construction paper and cut two inch strips of paper to start my recovery chain for my therapist.

then it was MRI time.

i made my brother go with me. i'm getting better about going to the doctor by myself, but it's still not a happy thing that i enjoy doing, and i told aaron that he'd be fine, just bring a book.

the MRI lady takes me back and starts talking about marching band and i'm supposed to remember her son who was a senior when i was a junior, but honestly, i don't remember him at all because i've tried mostly to forget the members of the drumline. i'm wearing a hospital gown and she says it's okay that i have a metal bow in my hair and my metal ring on, but heaven forbid i have any piercings or i might have any metal in my eyes. i feel like i would know if i have metal in my eyes. but my bow and my rings are fine.

"this will be forty-five minutes, emily. don't move. if you get cold, tell me and i'll get you a blanket. you can sleep if you want."

if you haven't had an MRI, especially on your back, let me explain this to you.

1. they strap you in with a big plastic seat belt over your chest. thank god i have small boobs.
2. they slide you into a tube thing. it is literally about three inches away from your face.
3. don't. move. an. inch.
4. they blow cold air in on you. in case you're claustrophobic. i'm not. so i was just cold.
5. it beeps and thunks and is basically an assault in your ears.

"you can sleep if you want."

i closed my eyes and watched spiderman in my head. then i had a terrible vision of them being like, i hate to say this emily, but you have cancer in your spine, it's that bone cancer that augustus had the in the fault in our stars, which is treatable, but remember that in that novel he died, so you should probably have back surgery to get that out of there and then you can take all these nasty drugs and go bald and you'll have a wig but it'll be okay, it's just cancer.

this is why i take antidepressants.

my hands went numb. that was fun. i made aaron drive me home. i spent a long time looking at my results through the windshield.

my spine looks really awesome.

after dinner my mom and i went grocery shopping. remember, my mom is the queen of grocery shopping. while we were looking for discount cereal, we actually had a decently intense discussion about my rare and interesting mental disorder because i've been doing a lot of research about it this week, and i'm so lucky that my mom is incredibly supportive.

she did tell me that she told my grandparents about it and i started to have a panic attack in the poptart aisle, but she said, "i didn't actually say what it was, don't worry" and then she laughed really hard and said, "did i just tell you not to worry?!" because that never works.

we hugged tightly and discussed going to a conference for my rare and interesting mental disorder, but i don't have the money to fly out to dallas, stay in a hotel, and pay for registration. but i'd still like to meet someone with my rare and interesting mental disorder. right now we just kind of connect on tumblr and share war stories.

eventually i'll blog about my rare and interesting mental disorder. i'm not ready yet. but the time is coming.

after my mom and i went grocery shopping, we watched more of chuck season two and we cut out all thirty-five of my construction paper fish. unfortunately, i have a papercut right in that thumb area where the scissors go, so that was fun. then i made my recovery chain and i was so proud of it that i cried and my mom cried a bit and we hugged because i'm recovering.

today i went to the chiropractor for the last time and they looked at my MRI results and this is what's happening to my spine.

1. my disks are like, crowding into each other.
2. there's this stuff inside of my disks that has the consistency of some form of food, i don't remember what he called it. yogurt, maybe? or toothpaste? that's not a food.
3. that stuff is kind of... dehydrated. so there's not as much food consistency. or toothpaste consistency.
4. eventually, my disks will bulge and that'll hurt like a bitch.
5. keep going to the chiropractor. then they won't bulge.
6. NO SURGERY FOR ME, KIDS.

then i went to target, had to accost an employee to find plastic hooks, and i treated myself to starbucks.

have i started packing yet?

noooooooo.

will i start?

ehhh. after lunch.

tomorrow morning at seven, i embark on a journey to alma, where i will move myself into the same room i had last year (hopefully with a different furniture arrangement) and then i start two weeks of RA training.

i love RA training. and this time i get to role play. my role: beer in the hallway.

hell yes. i hope i get to be the kid that drops the beer and makes a run for it.

until then, here is a picture of how incredibly attractive andrew garfield is.

unfff.
"unreleased sexual tension."

post script: on tumblr this morning, i realized that cillian murphy is a prettier woman than i am. cillian murphy is a man. WHAT IS THIS?!

he makes a gorgeous woman.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

the magic of drugs!

i feel like this post is going to be angsty.

you know, full of angst.

i'm going to really try to make sure it's not angsty. but the situation is angsty. you know, full of angst.

me: THE FAULT IN OUR STARS MADE ME SO ANGSTY!
my mother: is that a word?
me:
my mother:
me:
my mother:
me: it is now.
my mother: what does it mean?
me: you know. full of angst. did you know that vomitous isn't a word?
my father: that's FASCINATING!

i feel like most people would enjoy eating dinner with my family.

but THIS post is about drugs.

no. not about weed. or cocaine. or crystal meth. those things are bad.

prescription my-doctor-gave-me-this-piece-of-paper-and-i-took-it-to-walgreens-and-it-cost-a-bunch-of-money drugs.

speaking of walgreens, when i had my eighteen day sinus infection of terror, i went to urgent care, and they gave me awkward ear drops for my awkward ear fungus, and i went to walgreens.

and suddenly they're like, oh, we don't work with your insurance anymore, sorry. and i was standing there like, wuuuut.

and i call my dad and he's all like, oh, sorry, forgot to tell you.

no more walgreens for me!

i am so off topic.

so last week i had a follow up appointment with my doctor about all of those blood tests and my ultrasounds and stuff. some things have been confirmed and denied.

1. i have all of my woman parts. wooooooo i can make babies!
2. i have anemia! go me!
3. i have an awkward and interesting spinal nerve disorder/disease/thing.
4. i should probably see a spinal surgeon about that. but at this point, i am too terrified.
5. my doctor can get me antidepressants for free.

this is good. free is good. because my therapist wants me to take them. and going through someone else (not walgreens!) would cost a bunch of money.

so thursday i walked out of my doctor's office with ninety day's worth of free zoloft.

my therapist: i really think that zoloft can help you. i think you should try it.
my doctor: zoloft. now zoloft is a great drug, and i think it's the absolute perfect drug for you. it's going to make such a difference in your life. i just love zoloft.
me: um. sweet.

zoloft is, in fact, an antidepressant.

i am not a depressed person.

in fact, many people question how i can be so unreasonably happy. all the freakin' time.

but i'm taking zoloft for anxiety and my other interesting and rare mental disorder. for full details, see the previous post "i support my brain" and click on the button at the bottom that says HERE.

so. i take my first dose of zoloft at dinner on thursday night. my mom and i walk to walgreens. for cards, not for drugs, since our insurance is silly. we come back, i play the piano.

we go downstairs. i settle down. curl up in my blankets. watch the olympics with my parents. tweet. ice my back.

general olympics activity.

and then my stomach isn't feeling so great. no, it's not feeling great at all, no, it's really not OH SHIT--

and i'm puking. during the olympics. 

so insensitive, zoloft. so insensitive.

i have two more near misses in which i sit on the bathroom floor in my blanket and wait. i'm upset. i want to be watching the olympics, not sacrificing my dinner for the porcelain god. plus, i'm terrified of vomiting. honestly. it's one of my biggest fears. i would rather kill a giant spider than vomit.

i. hate. hurling.

so the next morning my dad wakes me up at nine and he's like, how are you feeling, and i'm like, oh yes, i feel great! and i go back to bed until my alarm goes off at ten. i get up, get in the shower.

i can't figure out how the shampoo works. i'm staring it and i'm like, well this is an interesting contraption. how does one work this?

my head feels empty. fuzzy. my arms don't feel quite attached to my shoulders and i'm watching myself go through the motions of showering, but i don't feel like i'm actually doing it. i'm genuinely surprised when i squirt conditioner onto my hand, like, how did this dollop of orange cream get onto my palm?

pouring my milk felt like taking the ACT. so i sit down at the kitchen table and two things are going through my mind.

1. DA FUQ IS UP WITH MY BRAIN.
2. i can't drive. driving is bad. if i drive i'll die. i need to call my dad.
3. miniwheats. i'm eating miniwheats. why. i'm going to vomit.

that was three things. i call my dad.

high school secretary: northrop high school.
me: yes, i need to speak to bill hollenberg.
secretary: i don't think he's in. it's still summer.
me: he's there. connect me to his room, please, it's important.
my father: hello?
me: DADDY I CAN'T DRIVE COME TAKE ME TO THE CHIROPRACTOR WAHHHH

friday was a big day for me, followed by a big weekend. i was going to drive to michigan to see my boyfriend. on saturday, we were going to hang out with janaya and stephen in battle creek. and sunday, today, we were going to go to lake michigan with jacob's family. i was going to come home on monday.

i call jacob. tell him i can't drive. i'll see how i feel on saturday.

the rest of the day i'm plagued by intense dry mouth. dry mouth, my friends, is pure evil. evil, i tell you. evil!

i take the zoloft at dinner friday night. curl up and watch the olympics.

olympic announcer: DAVID BOUDIA BARELY SCRAPES IT INTO THE FINALS!
my mother: how are you feeling?
me: ughhhhhh.
announcer: TOM DALEY!
me: me gusta.

but alas! no vomiting! simply olympics watching and the occasional groan. and much tom daley appreciation before i fell asleep.

friday's evil dry mouth is replaced by nausea. and that terrible disconnectedness. again.

so, i've never really been under the influence of a drug that makes me feel "nauseous". honestly. every drug that i've had that has that side effect hasn't given me anything. so i've never really known what "nausea" constituted.

i realized it constituted sitting on tumblr and about every five minutes feeling like you're going to vomit, realizing that you're just nauseated and not going to vomit, and sitting there and taking it like a champ.

i'm gonna puke! no. wait. no. it's gone. phew. I'M GONNA PUKE! no. wait. no. it's gone. phew. REBLOG THE AVENGERS. i think i might actually puke this time. nope, never mind. look, tom hiddleston!

i called jacob. cancelled our big weekend in michigan. if i'm going to sit around and feel pukey, i'm going to do it at home and not sit around jacob's house and ruin our plans.

plus, i shouldn't be anywhere near a car.

my mother decided that getting some fresh air would be good for me. so we walked to the library with my brother, who, by the way, is home for the summer.

"welcome home, your sister is dying of zoloft side effects and can't walk down the stairs without her legs shaking uncontrollably. but we have bacon!"

walking to the library was blessed. it was lovely. i looked for more john green books, and there were none to be had. i checked out the movies, none were interesting.

i then sat in a chair and promptly felt like i was going to spew everything i'd ever eaten in my life all over the library floor.

when we got home, i curled up in bed and watched the lion king on VHS. twice.

my dad devised a plan.

i was going to take my zoloft right before bed. that way, i'd sleep through the terrible onset nausea.

my fear that is bigger than vomiting: waking up in the middle of the night and vomiting. nuh uh. i don't deal with that.

this was my angsty zoloft post on tumblr:

dear zoloft,
you have kept me from going on a fun-filled weekend trip to michigan with my boyfriend.
you make made me vomit. during the olympics, of all times.
you have taken away my ability to drive.
you have made my legs shake uncontrollably when i walk down the stairs.
you have taken away my appetite.
and i've only taken two of your pills.

needless to say, i didn't want to take that third pill.

but the appetite thing. totally true. i was planning on losing five pounds this summer, and that didn't quite work out. but with the way things are going right now, i could accomplish this in the next three days.

veggie burger: 1 emily: 0.
milk: 1 emily: 0.
lucky charms: 1 emily: 0

have you bitten into something and just said LOL NOPE in your brain?

that veggie burger. one bite of that and i wanted to crawl into my bed and die.

my dad: are you going to finish that?
me: no. i'm so nauseated.
my grandma: of course you are. it's a veggie burger.

i can never live down being a vegetarian in a family full of omnivores. ever.

for the record, i did not wake up and vomit. this is good. because i did enough of that when i was little. the carpet licorice/vomit stain of 2000 was a pretty hefty stain.

i came downstairs for breakfast this morning and for the first time in three days, did not feel disconnected. in fact, i felt well enough to safely get behind the wheel of a car.

then i opened the pantry and my nausea was like, oh hey, emily, how's it hangin'? i see you want some breakfast. let me make these lucky charms the most unappetitizing things you have ever seen in your entire life.

it could've been worse. yesterday i gagged on a pancake.

eventually, zoloft is going to do what it's supposed to do, which is to help me control my anxiety and other things. and i'm going to stop vomiting and being disconnected. and i'll be able to drive and walk down the stairs like the spry twenty-one year old girl that i am. 

but until then, i'm sitting in my arm chair, reminding myself that it's very unlikely that i'll actually vomit even though i feel like i'm going to, and watching disney movies on VHS.

at least my brother is home. as long as i can't drive, he'll have to take me anywhere i want to go. which is mostly the chiropractor.

but this is the biggest injustice of the entire weekend:

today, sunday, after a nice good lunch in which i did not lose my appetite, i decided that i felt decent enough to leave the house.

me: WE'RE GONNA GO SEE SPIDERMAN
my brother: NERDGASM TIME
spiderman showtimes: ha. no.

so now i'm actually feeling decent and i can't go see spiderman because of inconvenient show times that  coincide with dinner with my grandmother. 

spiderman shows. the indecency. you dare to keep me away from the greatest movie of the summer for the fourth time? YOU DARE?

it dared. i'm going to continue my disney movie marathon.


and give you this picture of tom daley. with a nice union flag on that scrumptious butt of his.

i believe the correct caption for this is
"dat ass."

Sunday, August 5, 2012

the mandatory olympics post!

IT'S TIME FOR THE OLYMPICS POST!

i tried to write this like... last monday. and it got really melodramatic, and i try to shy away from that, so i deleted it and moved on with my life.

meaning i grabbed my laptop, a dr. pepper, a gigantic bag of ice for my back per my chiropractor's suggestion, and i parked my ass on our fifties couch in the basement and watched the olympics for four hours.

being a blogger is bad for your health. when i'm not parking my ass in places with my laptop, i'm laying in bed reading.

strong mind. weak abs.

but anyway, it's time for my olympics post, which i'm tentatively going to title that post where emily admits to being completely unpatriotic and rooting for other teams, mostly underdogs and especially great britain.


#teamGB!

i'm not saying #teamGB (which is almost shameful for me to type. i've pretty much given up hashtags on twitter.) because the olympics are being hosted in london. i'm saying team great britain because i just really love great britain.

i went to london for three days when i was thirteen. i spent the remaining seven days of my europe trip in amsterdam, but the netherlands didn't quite click like england did.

i want to live in england when i graduate from college.

there are a lot of reasons for this.

1. i don't want to get into these reasons on my blog.
2. it's about politics and other stuff i don't even understand.
3. it may have something to do with the fact that i live in indiana, but probably not.
4. you actually thought this list was me listing why i want to live in england and not america. you poor soul. it's okay. even i didn't really know where this list was going.

but anyway, i'm pretty much team great britain and south africa. (and australia. i like them a lot.)

when it comes to the olympics, i am the ultimate fangirl. the past olympics that i've watched and actually been able to understand (sydney, athens, beijing) i didn't know what fangirling was. but now i understand and realized i was a fangirl all along.

now that i am a true fangirl, thanks to tumblr and john green and other various things, london has been an exceptional olympics in which i have bawled my eyes out over great britain's men's gymnastics team.

i saw something on tumblr the other day to the effect of: if you're not crying over your favorite olympic athlete, you're not watching the olympics properly.

i don't have a favorite olympic athlete. we could go by country, i suppose.

america: probably gabby douglas. and missy franklin. she's cool.
great britain- their entire men's rowing team, men's gymnastics team, jessica ennis, mo farah, men's diving, I JUST LOVE ALL OF THEM OKAY
south africa- chad le clos, kirsty coventry, and oscar pistorius.
australia- any of their swimmers. particularly emily seebohm. i also enjoy their rowing team.
russia- KROMOWIDJOJO. that woman can swim.

i'm getting off topic. this where i write about how incredibly unpatriotic i am, and how i really don't care. and how much i love the olympics.

right. the olympics are every four years.

every summer that the olympics are NOT on is a wasted summer. seriously, my mother and i wait for this. we count down for this. last year, we spent most of july saying, ONE MORE YEAR UNTIL LONDON YAAAAAY and i spent most of two weeks ago starting a countdown for the opening ceremonies. i spent the opening ceremonies at my boyfriend's house in michigan.

jacob: we're going to watch pulp fiction, i rented it.
me: no we're not, we're watching the london opening ceremonies. i missed beijing's and i haven't forgiven myself.
jacob: but we rented pulp fiction.
me: SIT YOUR ASS DOWN AND WATCH THE OPENING CEREMONIES WITH ME, I'VE WAITED FOUR YEARS FOR THIS.

the opening ceremonies were, as usual, breathtaking. i've heard that beijing was absolutely incredible, and i still can't figure out why i missed it, because i didn't even have a job the summer that i was seventeen, and jacob said that they were only fabulous so that china could impress the capitalists.

they only need to impress me with diving. man. talk about making tom daley look incompetent on the ten meter platform.

this was where i had the first of my two intense AHA! moments of this year's olympiad and when i realized that i was truly team great britain and not just jumping on the "oh the games are in london let's support england" bandwagon.

when great britain's olympic team walked out during the parade of nations and they were waving their union flags and singing "god save the queen", i had never seen people be more proud of their country and of hosting the olympics in my entire life. and i realized that i felt more strongly toward the union flag than i have ever felt toward our good old american flag.

you can call me unpatriotic. i really don't care. it's only going to get worse from here.

london is where i gave up my long-standing crush on ryan lochte. everybody is in love with him, but i've been watching him since athens. look at footage of michael phelps from eight years ago, and sure enough, ryan lochte is there, under the radar.

now he's a really big deal, and i'm beginning to realize how stupid he is. like, seriously, he's just an unintelligent person. he's a great swimmer, but i lost most of my respect for him when he bit his gold medal wearing a grill, when i realized that his famous "ryan lochte" shoes were made backwards, i frequented his twitter, and realized that he had a blog run by an unknown person that can spell only a little bit better than he can.

i have no love for ryan lochte. in fact, when he wasn't on the men's medley relay last night, i spent a good five minutes laughing. i also tweeted him asking him where he learned to spell.

i'm a terrible person. it's okay. it's going to get worse as i continue to write this.

my first night of olympic coverage was at my grandparents' house last sunday with swimming and the night first of women's qualifying gymnastics. when it comes to women's gymnastics, i'm all for team USA, but a fair chunk of my cheering goes to team russia. anyway, we're watching swimming.

my grandparents, my cousin, and my uncle know nothing about swimming. my parents know enough, having raised two swimmers.

i competitively swam for sixteen years and i've been a swim coach for four years. i know my stuff. swimming is kind of my thing.

i, of course, was cheering for team great britain and team south africa. south africa has a really legitimate swim team and nobody really gives them credit for it. great britain has a ways to go in the swimming department, outside of rebecca adlington. but south africa has kirsty coventry, and did people just forget about her long standing world records that nobody's been able to beat?

so. the race is the 100 breaststroke final. NBC is really hyped up about brendan hansen, coming out of retirement, out to finally beat kitajima. (kitajima, incidentally, changed breaststroke pullout rules in athens to avoid being disqualified. his pullout change is now accepted worldwide. fun fact that you didn't care about.) and of course, hansen and our japanese friend who always seems to swipe gold are right next to each other in outside lanes, and since this is america, they're only focusing on him and hansen.

while they battle it out, nobody notices that south africa wins, takes gold, and gets a new world record.

NBC: and hansen barely takes bronze and kitajima doesn't even medal! what a race! too bad for hansen, though...
me: SOUTH AFRICAAAAAA OMG THAT WAS SO GREAT LOOK AT THE WORLD RECORD SOUTH AFRICAAAA
my grandmother: emily. cheer for the united states.

later.

me: GREAT BRITAIN! WOOOO GREAT BRITAIN! WAY TO BE!
my grandmother: EMILY! REALLY! CHEER FOR THE UNITED STATES!
me: ADLINGTONNNNNNNNN

monday night swimming. women's 100 breaststroke final.

ruta meilutyte beats rebecca soni and claims gold. meilutyte is fifteen and from lithuania.

the world: oh no rebecca soni! oh no!
me: LITHUAAAAANIA (this was posted on several social networks.)

it's not that i don't like rebecca soni. i really do. she's a great person and a wonderful swimmer. but when you see ruta meilutyte crying and hugging soni because she just beat the greatest breaststroker of the recent decaded and she's only fifteen and she got a gold medal, you can't help but cheer for that. think about how proud she's made herself, her family, and her country.

monday night was the ill-fated "emily's tweets get out of hand over team great britain" episode on twitter. men's gymnastics all around. let's take a look.

@emilyyxh: GREAT BRITAIN TIME.
@emilyyxh: can i just love great britain until i explode with feels? I NEED TO STOP TWEETING
@emilyyxh: AEURWHDGUDFHGUDSGDFG YES GREAT BRITAIN YES YES YES YES SKJDJHGJTESJDSFHG YESSSSSSSSS
@emilyyxh: SILVER BABY. SILVER. I AM CRYING ALONE IN MY BASEMENT. SILVER FOR GREAT BRITAIN.
@emilyyxh: i'm sitting here sobbing. I CAN'T CONTAIN MY FEELS.
@emilyyxh: WHAT JUST HAPPENED WITH THAT CALL. WHAT. THE. HELL. NO.
@emilyyxh: great britain still medaled. i love my british boys. i'm going to bed now, i swear. GREAT BRITAIN, BABY.

(note: these are all legitimate tweets. i just went to my twitter and copy/pasted them.)

fangirling should be an olympic sport. i think i'm close to gold.

and you know, after this, i didn't lose any followers, surprisingly. this was the worst of my tweeting, but it didn't get much better. until the olympics are over, i suggest avoiding me. and my twitter.

my next big happy dance was when chad le clos outtouched michael phelps in the 200 fly.

i love michael phelps as much as the next person. i spent most of middle school and high school idolizing him. he's a nice, great guy that trains hard and is the best swimming and olympic athlete in the world. but he's human.

and when chad le clos outtouched by .05 seconds, i completely lost it.

@emilyyxh: SOUTH AFRICAAAAAAAAA
@emilyyxh: CHAD LE CLOS. YOU ARE MY HERO OF THE DAY. YOU DESERVE THE GOLD MEDAL. YOU ARE AWESOME.

twitter needs bold and italics capacity. my caps lock is getting worn.

my third cousin in a tumblr post: fun fact, i just watched emily freak out on three social networks.

proud of it, matt. proud of it.

later in the week, when doing a personal interest story on michael phelps and how he retired as of last night, NBC said something along the lines of "michael phelps was victimized by chad le clos".

excuse me, NBC?

if chad le clos victimized michael phelps, then michael phelps has victimized countless other swimmers in his quest to be the most decorated olympian of all time.

chad le clos beat michael phelps fair and square. get over it. nobody was victimized.

around that time, someone on twitter subtweeted who i'm assuming was me (i know. i'm vain, assuming people on twitter subtweet me.) by saying something along the lines of this: if you're american and supporting other countries, you probably should keep that yourself. #shameful

i want to ask you a question now.

what is shameful in supporting a fifteen year old lithuanian girl in achieving her dreams of getting a gold medal? of supporting great britain as they medal for the first time ever in men's gymnastics? of being moved as chad le clos' father cries into a south african flag as his son beats the fastest swimmer in the world?

tell me what's shameful about that and maybe i'll shut up about how much i love other countries and not just america.

i never said i didn't love america. i am one hundred percent behind the fab five, and i love missy franklin to death. the women's medley relay was one of the most intense relays i have ever seen, and i screamed myself hoarse for them. i love it when michael phelps wins as much as the next person, and gabby douglas reduced me to tears.

i just also happen to support other countries, particularly great britain and south africa.

i forgot to mention my second AHA! moment, since i mentioned the first. oops. awkward transition.

back on sunday i was watching the 400 freestyle with my family, and they did a small, personal segment on rebecca adlington, britain's swimming star. it was another union flag AHA! moment, rather like the first one that i had during the opening ceremonies. when she help up her flag and her gold medal in beijing, i realized that i just really love the union flag and i felt very proud of it.

i'm not sure where this pride comes from. trust me, it scares me, being prideful of someone else's flag more than my own. i think i really am destined to possibly live in great britain in the next three years.

but here's how this went down when watching the 400 freestyle.

my grandmother: GO ALLISON SCHMITT!
me: ADLINGTON! GET HER! GET HER! TAKE HER DOWN!
my grandmother: STOP CHEERING FOR BRITAIN. SERIOUSLY. STOP IT.

i'm not going to stop. yesterday great britain got six gold medals and i was over the moon about it.

at this point, i really don't care if you think i'm an unpatriotic asshole because i cheer for other countries. i'm pretty sure that a lot of other countries cheer for us. chad le clos idolizes michael phelps, and i'm reasonably sure that his dad didn't think he was unpatriotic to south africa for watching and cheering for him in athens and beijing. just because i'm from america doesn't mean i have to exclusively cheer for america.

the olympics, in truth, is about coming together. it's about 204 countries that get together and support each other, race each other, and lift each other up and we show the world what the human body is physically capable of together. the olympics is about joining together through the world of sports.

morgan freeman says go world.


i say go world too.

i'm going to leave you with this beautiful picture of great britain's diving team. in hopes to convert you to team great britain during the last week of the olympics.



i don't support them just because of this. but it's a good reason to, right? :)


post script: if you want to see why i think ryan lochte is one of the stupidest olympians on the planet, click here. seriously. i laughed for half an hour.