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.

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