that moment i pretended i knew what was going on in politics.

oh my goodness. i need to blog.

today i shaved for the first time since getting out of the hospital. and i was like, MAN, I FEEL LIKE A WOMAN shania twain style in the shower and then i was like, jeez, my life is sad, this is why i have a blog. i need to blog.

my last post was so dramatic. and depressing.

i need to blog about fun things.

here's what i came up with.

1. walk-outs! we got seven new gamma phi babies and jacob and i took stupid pictures and he resembled sully from monster's inc.
2. all of the awkward places i've been having seizures. like the choir concert.
3. the presidential debate.

i've decided to go with number three.

OH NO, A POLITICAL BLOG, RUN AWAY AHHHHHH

you can run away. buuuut i feel like if i've blogged about religion, being hospitalized, my vagina on numerous occasions, and my mental illness, i've earned the right to blog about politics.

um. i should make a disclaimer.

i, emily hollenberg, know absolutely nothing about politics. i do not want to get into any stimulating discussions. i do not like it when people comment on stuff and are like, "actually, if you look at the facts about blah blah in obamacare you will realize blah blah blah about taxes."

i don't know about politics. i'm simply sharing my opinion and how the debate was pretty much the funniest thing i've ever seen on television. i'm not going to be politically correct. also, we can have different political stances and still be friends. don't shove your beliefs down my throat and i won't shove mine down yours.

right. THE PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE.

in eleventh grade in my US history class we had to keep debate journals. i went back and reread them and i realized that i care more about how politicians act on stage rather than what they're saying. i totally did that last week during the debate.

and of course, i live tweeted. because live tweeting is what i do. and surprisingly, i didn't lose any followers.

OH. i should probably post my political stance.

it is officially HUFFLEPUFFS FOR OBAMA.

because i'm in hufflepuff. and i like obama. i think. i made a sign and hung it in my room, so it's decently legit.

so it's debate time. i have my door open. i have my laptop on my lap and i'm ready to live tweet the hell out of this thing.

my first thought: romney and obama are ridiculously photogenic. like, why can't i be that photogenic? even when my hair looks good i still look terrible in pictures.

WET T-SHIRT CONTEST

wow. i just labeled that "wet t-shirt contest." i'm going to hell.

soooo. i think the rest of this blog is going to be my tweets. because i feel like it'll just be easier for you and for me if i'm just like, HERE, LOOK AT MY TWEETS DURING THE DEBATE.

first tweet. OH SNAP, PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE BECAUSE OBAMA IS AWESOME AND I JUST WANT TO LAUGH AT MITT ROMNEY. there's my political stance, oops, bye.

then i spent some time wondering who the moderator was because i don't pay attention to things like that. i'm way more focused on the fact that whenever one of the candidates is like, "let me tell you why your plan is bullshit" they're like, "LOOK DOWN AND SMILE, LOOK DOWN AND SMILE. IT'LL BE OKAY, JUST LOOK DOWN AND SMILE AT MY SHINY SHOES THAT SOMEOBDY PICKED OUT FOR ME."

so. my first jab at romney.

"oh romney. you're pulling the sob stories and not actually talking about what you're going to do. and did anybody notice that you just dissed china?"

i don't even remember how he dissed china. but he totally did.

even though i'm a pretty hardcore obama fan, of course obama isn't perfect. i got to jab at him too.

obama: education is super important, guys! i want to pay teachers more and i want to hire more math and science teachers!

me: bro. english teachers. we're a thing.

now we're at the point where i'm not entirely sure what's going on because i don't know how the hell medicaid and medicare work. so i'm trying to figure out who the moderator is. when i found out, this happened.

"THE MODERATOR'S NAME IS JIM. JIM. JIM. MY MAN. LET'S DATE."

because i've always wanted to date an old PBS dude in a tie. like mr. rogers.

sooooo then the bullshit starts to fly.

romney: i don't want to cut taxes on the rich.

me: um.

obama: um.

jim: um.

america: um.

obama: i was looking at numbers--

me: candidates understand numbers?! i thought they made that stuff up.

jim: let's talk about taxes.

romney: lol no.

jim: let's focus back on taxes.

romney: lol no.

obama: smile and nod. smile and nod.

it was a little after this that i made my most important discovery of all political history.

republicans blink more than democrats.

i'm so serious. in my eleventh grade journal, i seriously spent a page discussing how much john mccain blinks. like, my seventeen year old self was obsessed with how much that man blinked. and now i'm sitting on my bed live tweeting and i'm like, damn, romney is blinking so much. REPUBLICANS MUST BLINK MORE THAN DEMOCRATS.

it makes perfect sense. right? right.

then things start to get fun. jacob comes over.

jacob doesn't like politics. he doesn't want to vote. he doesn't like obama or romney. and he actually knows about politics and laws and legislation and i'm over here like, i just want to vote for obama because he likes education and is okay with gay marriage. 

the first thing that jacob says to me when he walks in is this: "romney's being an ass. but he's being an ass pretty stupidly. does he think that's good?"

about ten minutes later romney is like, "hang on jim, i want the last word." and jim is like, "no bro, obama gets the last word and you can go first next time" and romney is like, "DUDE, NO, I WANT THE LAST WORD" and i'm like, "romney. LISTEN TO JIM. HE'S A COOL DUDE."

so this was my favorite part of the debate.

romney: i love coal.

my tweet: i'm sitting here with the largest windfarm in michigan five miles away and romney is like, OH HEY, I LOVE COAL.

i put that as a facebook status. it got a lot of likes.

then suddenly it's all medicare and healthcare and things i don't know about and romney is like, "it's my job to interrupt jim because i can do what i want" and obama is like, "i am soooo on the oration struggle bus" and i'm like, "obama, i feel you bro, i had a speech impediment in elementary school."

and then two beautiful things happened.

romney: expensive things hurt families.

jacob: SO DOES LOSING YOUR JOB TO A CORPORATE PIG.

me: i have lost my ability to can.

jim: now let's move onto--

romney: lol no.

jacob: I'M MITT ROMNEY AND I'M AN ASSHOLE AND I INTERRUPT THE MODERATOR BECAUSE I'M MITT ROMNEY.

me: where's kanye when you need him?

a facebook app told me that kanye west would interrupt my wedding. i think i'm okay with that.

i feel like this wouldn't be a political debate blog post if i didn't say at least something about big bird. i actually missed the big bird comment, i was laughing too hard at jacob muttering hateful things under his breath about obama's tax plan that i will never hope to understand.

but seriously, you can't just be like, "hey bro, i know you work for PBS and you're moderating this thing, but i want to cut public programming. like PBS."

there is one thing that i DO know, and that cutting funding and getting rid of PBS will make about a tenth of a percent difference in the national defecit.

if we want to fix the national defecit, we need to stop spending money on a pointless war. i don't care if you agree with me or not. i believe that our war is pointless and is wasting money. 

back to funnier points of the debate.

romney: my first day as president, i'm going to repeal obamacare.

obama: you gonna have a busy first day there, bro, repealing all of my shit.

the debate showed me a few things.

1. republicans blink more than democrats.

2. romney interrupts people more than kanye west.

3. my boyfriend is very knowledgeable about politics.

4. i know nothing about politics.

5. twitter is the best place to be when watching a debate.

6. moderator jim needs a hug. and a large glass of bourbon after what all went down.

after the debate was over, i was flipping channels, and i kid you not, jacob says to me, "i wonder what's on PBS? burning effigies of romney?"

now i leave you with some political stuff that i put on tumblr, where if you are a republican, you are pretty much crucified.

even if we're republican, i feel like we all were.

right. i think we've all figured out my political stance.

i'm not saying that obama has all the answers. because he doesn't. but i am saying that i'm not going to vote for a man that won't let me get married if i were in love with a woman. and he thinks that airplane windows need to be able to be rolled down.

he's obviously never seen goldmember. he should watch more james bond.

also, one of my tweets got on some weird website. you can find it here.

seriously, i was just sitting on twitter and this guy was like, hey emilyyxh, i used your tweet in this article about the debate and i was like, man, i hope you know that none of my tweets are politically correct and  don't carry any political weight.

i am uneducated about politics and i'm going to vote! you should vote too!

and probably be more educated than me. that would be smart of you.

LET'S GO VOTE, KIDS! FOR ROMNEY OR OBAMA! 

and if neither of them work for you, tumblr is starting a "strange women in ponds distributing swords 2012" campaign. 

now if you'll excuse me, i'm going to turn on the vice presidential debate and have absolutely no idea what's going on.

i am not my mental illness.

today i'm going to blog about mental health. no amusing tweets from the debate last night, no excited pictures of my sorority getting new members and me wearing a giant parrot necklace and superman tights.

that'll come later.

this is a serious post about mental health.

this week is trichotillomania awareness week.

i've hinted numerous times that i have a mental illness. i've snidely called it "my rare and interesting mental illness" because it is rare, and it is, in fact, interesting.

my name is emily and i have trichotillomania.

me: phew. glad i got that off my chest.
you: DA FUQ IS TRICHOTILLOMANIA. I CAN'T EVEN PRONOUNCE THAT.

i'll spare you. we call it trich. because i've had this for seven years and i can barely say it.

it's trick-oh-teel-oh-mania, by the way. if you're really trying.

so. trich. this cool public health website says that "trichotillomania is hair loss from repeated urges to pull or twist hair until it breaks off. Patients are unable to stop this behavior. it is an impulse control disorder and its causes are not clearly understood."

thanks, public health website, for enlightening us.

sooooooooooo basically what it says is this: my name is emily and i compulsively pull out my own hair.

EUW. GROSS. WEIRD. SCARY. AHHH. RUN AWAY.

welcome to my life.

trich affects approximately three million americans. that's three million people out there compulsively pulling out their own hair. and they have no idea why. that's the biggest question.

why?

i started to pull out my eyebrows when i was in eighth grade. i was fourteen. around thanksgiving i just absentmindedly started to yank out my eyebrow hairs during class, especially french. my mom got me tweezers for christmas with hopes that i was just trying to sculpt them on my own, but that didn't turn out well. i put the tweezers in a drawer and never got them out again. i am still afraid of them.

by the time i finished eighth grade i didn't have eyebrows.

this doesn't seem like a big deal. until you don't have eyebrows and people stare at you and ask you about it. then you just want to die inside. then it's a big deal.

in ninth grade i got my hair cut and the stylist commented on my lack of eyebrows. i told her that i shaved them off for swimming.

right before my fifteenth birthday my mom thought that my bangs were too long and she cut them herself. she cut them too short. i spent the last week of eighth grade making up whatever stories i could for the people that asked me where my eyebrows were.

it takes a lot of effort to hide missing hair places. honestly. swimming is always a problem. sweaty bangs curl up and make your lack of eyebrows visible. getting your hair cut is torture.

and then there's always the question: what if someone sees me pulling out my hair in class? what will they think?

the ultimate question: AM I CRAZY?

my mom used to yell at me whenever i pulled out my hair. she'd tell me to "just stop."

if there's one thing i've learned about the stigma against mental illness, it's that "just stop" is one of the worst things you can ever say to someone.

we did not choose to have a mental illness. we do not enjoy the effects of mental illness.

and no, we cannot "just stop" having a mental illness.

people with trich cannot "just stop" pulling out their hair. trich is an impulse control disorder, and the more you pull, the more impulsive it becomes, making it a cycle of damage.

whenever i want to pull my hair, the part where i want to pull from gets itchy, a kind of tingly scalp itchiness. i can rub that spot all i want, i can scratch it, but nothing will make that feeling go away until i rip that hair out. to someone with trich, there is nothing more satisfying than feeling a hair detach from your head, feeling the root lift up and out, and knowing that you got that hair out of there.

there is nothing more important than pulling out your own hair.

it's hard to concentrate on anything else but the feeling of needing to pull. all you can think about is ripping out hair. it is literally the only thing you can concentrate on. it is that impulsive.

there are people out there with trich that have it a lot worse than i do. i pull from my eyebrows, the back of my head, and the top right side of my head, where i normally wear bows. there are people with trich that pull out their hair to such a degree that they are bald and have to wear wigs. there are people out there who spend an hour in the morning arranging hair carefully around a bald spot. hair is a constant worry. hair is a constant necessity.

hair is such an integral part of how we see ourselves. we all have different hairstyles. we dye our hair, we braid it, we put it up, we curl it, we straighten it, we leave it down, we put bows in it. hair is so important with how we see ourselves.

you cannot feel like a whole and happy person when you know that you destroy your own natural beauty by ripping out your hair compulsively.

my hair is one of the few things that i truly love about my appearance. i am very proud of my hair and how i maintain it. sometimes it gets to the point where i become obsessive about my hair. i have to do it every single day. i can't simply shower and leave the house without doing my hair. i always need it to look nice and presentable.

i feel like i do this because i know that the alternative is to pull all of it out and be left with nothing.

not many people know about trich. i didn't find out what trich was until i was sixteen. for two years i thought i was crazy, pulling out my own hair. when i found out what it was, i didn't know what to do. i spent a week in a furious debate with myself, wondering who i could turn to to talk about it.

to this day, i have not met anyone personally with trich.

trich is a silent disorder. people that have trich are not open about it. we don't want to be seen as crazy. i don't march around shouting "I PULL OUT MY OWN HAIR." that's not normal. it's a slow and silent disorder. we don't want anyone to know our secret struggles. we don't want anyone to know that we wear wigs.

we don't want anyone to know that we struggle with self-esteem because our hair will never be long and beautiful as long as we struggle with this disorder.

because trich is relatively unknown and the exact cause of it is unknown, there's not much funding for research. in the mental health community, we're kind of that disorder over the corner sitting quietly like, "hey guys, i'm over here affecting three percent of the population, but you can get to me when you find out exactly what causes schizophrenia."

i have silently had trichotillomania for seven years. i will have trichotillomania for the rest of my life.

i am not going to be silent anymore.

i have this illness. but i am not my illness. trich does not define me.

my name is emily and i have trichotillomania.

my family is incredibly supportive. i see a therapist and we work on ways to keep my hands busy so i don't absentmindedly pull out my hair. i keep a log of when and where i pull and what i'm thinking about when i do.

today is october fourth, 2012, and i have not pulled my hair out in seventy-five days.

for the first time in seven years, i have full eyebrows. i have no bald spots.

seventy-five days. 

i have a paper chain on my bookshelf that marks my recovery. for every day that i don't pull, i put on a paper link in the color of my choice. for every day that i pull, i put on a white link.

my chain has no white links.

trich is something that i will struggle with for the rest of my life. but i know that if i can go seventy-five days without pulling that i can do anything.

i am not my mental illness.

i have trichotillomania. but it does not have me.

seventy-five days pull free.

trichotillomania awareness week is wrapping up. tomorrow we're wearing blue. so support trichotillomania and wear blue if you want. :)

the big bad story of how emily was hospitalized for like, a bunch of disjointed days.

hold onto your pants, this is about to be the longest blog post EVER.

why? because it just keeps going, that's why.

i have also decided that it will have a cartoon picture of captain america for no reason somewhere in the middle. just because i can do that.

so. first order of business.

emily, our intrepid blogger, is blogging from the hospital.

why, you ask?

well. because i'm hospitalized. and that's what this post is about. me being in the hospital like a boss.

so, without further ado, this is my adventure in gratiot county medical where the food is worse than alma's cafeteria and people poke me with needles at odd hours of the morning.

THE BIG BAD STORY ABOUT HOW EMILY WAS HOSPITALIZED FOR LIKE, A WHOLE BUNCH OF DISJOINTED DAYS.

saturday evening jacob (the boyfriend not the best friend) and i were taking a nap on his bed in the basement. and i was like, dude, jacob, it's cold, get me a blanket please, and he's like, oh sure, i'm a great devoted boyfriend, here's a blanket, and i shivered.

and then i didn't stop shivering.

jacob: are you okay?
me: um. i'm still shivering.
jacob: are you cold?
me: no. i'm actually really sweaty.
jacob: maybe you're having a seizure?
me: LOLOLOLOL.

jacob gets on the internet. i'm flopping around on his bed. jacob goes to get bill across the hall. bill sees me flopping around. i say hello and continue to flop like a fish.

jacob: we need to go to the hospital.
me: no. i'm fine.
jacob: YOU'RE HAVING A FUGGIN' SEIZURE.
me: ugh. no ambulance.

jacob, being six four and in shape, is like, man, i can totally carry my helpless seizing girlfriend to bill's car and we can drive her to the emergency room and it will be glorious! but as soon as he tries to pick me up, i'm like, UH, NO, I'M ABOUT TO PASS OUT, YOU PUT ME THE HELL BACK ON YOUR BED RIGHT NOW so now jacob is like, well gee, i'm calling an ambulance, and i'm still flopping around and i'm like, seriously, this is going to make such a scene.

twenty minutes later, there are paramedics and they're like, hi emily, and i'm like, yo, what's up, i think i'm having a seizure, what's your name? and they're like, OMG WHY ARE YOU TALKING WHY AREN'T YOU PASSED OUT and i'm like, dude, question of the hour, can i stop shaking now please?

so then they strap me into this wheelchair and it goes up the basement steps. kind of like carl's little chair in up. then i was in an ambulance and my first thought was, ambulances look so much cooler in TV shows. this is totally boring. man. i'm still flopping around. this is dumb.

a bunch of ER doctors pull the whole "oh wow she's conscious and making jokes with the paramedics, that's really weird" and i'm over here like, "you know, this oxygen stuff you shoved up my nose? my nose ring isn't digging it." and jacob is on the phone with my parents and then this nice guy gave me this huge dose of benadryl.

fact. i cannot spell benadryl. i am far too lazy to look it up, too. so it's going to be spelled benadryl for the rest of this blog post.

that stuff conks me out. i wake up for a little bit and i'm in a CT scan to check my brain and i'm like, oooooh. pretty. then jacob is like, it's two in the morning and we're taking you home! and then he lifted me into my bunk bed and he spent the night in my room like a good boyfriend and i slept and i slept and i slept.

i spent most of sunday curled up in bed watching british television. i finally got around to showering and i put on my fancy gamma phi beta clothes for my business meeting and jacob and i went to dinner, and everybody was like, emily are you okay, i heard you were in the ER last night, and i'm like, i am sooo sick of telling people what happened last night.

then jacob and i went to his room, i laid down on his bed for a minute, and then the next thing i know, i'm flopping around again.

welcome to my life.

jacob wastes no time. he calls willard, my fantastic boss, and before we even debate about calling an ambulance, they've shoved me into the back of willard's car and we're off to the ER again. having a weird seizure in the back of someone's car is not as cool as it sounds. and when we pull up the ER entrance, this doctor is like, "why is she doing that?" and willard is like, "uh, we don't know, that's why we brought her here, dumbass."

ER doctor: you're back.
me: yeup.
ER doctor: why do you keep coming back.
me: that's a great question.

me: i'm missing my gamma phi beta meeting.
jacob: i think you have other, more pressing matters to deal with right now.
me: my abs hurt from convulsing like this.
jacob: well, at least you'll have a six pack when this is all over.

they give me drugs. when i wake up, my parents are magically there, like they apparated from indiana, and i'm like, yaaaay parents! and then the ER doctor is like, we're going to admit you to the hospital and i'm like, hold up, i have three classes tomorrow and stuff to do. and he's like, too bad, we gotta figure out why you're convulsing.

see, it's not a seizure if i'm talking and cracking jokes with the doctors. it's a convulsion.

at two in the morning they set me up in a pretty swanky private hospital room and my parents spend the night in my dorm room. they come back around eight in the morning and spend most of the morning sleeping on a couch by the window and i spend most of the morning sleeping in my hospital bed. then this indian doctor is like, i know a lot about brains, we're going to see why you're having convulsions!

so they wheel me downstairs to have an EEG. which means they stick little wires all over my head and see what my brain does. but they can't just stick the wires to my head, no, they have to rub this stuff that honest to god looks like toothpaste all over my hair and my forehead before they can do anything. while this nice lady is rubbing weird toothpaste on me, she's telling me that she knows a bunch of people that i know because she's one of the hall director's sisters, and i'm like, dude, no way, small world, and then i remember that we're in alma and everything is small in alma. except walmart.

once that's over with, jacob comes over and we spend most of the afternoon sitting around. jacob does his homework and i take advantage of the super sweet and fantastic wireless and i watch sherlock. i was NOT prepared for those feels.

british TV for the win!

oh. MORIARITY IS REAL. I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK.

live tweeting: "why did i EVER think that watching the reichenbach fall alone in my hospital room was a good idea?!"

so my parents were like, well you look and feel fine and we're out of clothes and have jobs, so we're going back to indiana and we'll call you a bunch and i was like, sweet, that sounds great.

because here's the thing. i'm sitting in this hospital room and i feel like ballroom dancing. because i feel fantastic. and everybody on facebook is like, "emily! get better soon! feel better soon!" and i'm sitting here like, "dude. i feel awesome."

my entire RA staff came to see me after visiting hours, and that was quite the scandal. they brought the bitch slapper, which is a giant canoe paddle that's been decorated with everything from a pair of sunglasses to what looks like a crucified toy cat. apparently they got lost in limbo with an elevator, scared a few nurses, and couldn't find my room. but they brought me ice cream and we had a great staff meeting where we laughed and were awesome.

on tuesday the neurologist was like, your brain scan was clean, go home! and i was like, YISSSSSS and so i got back to my dorm room, i took a shower, and i took a nap.

then i woke up and starting having another seizure thing.

jacob: seriously.
me: seriously.
jacob: i'm calling 911 again.
me: whatever. i am so done with this.

twenty minutes later.

ER doctor: DAMNIT. WHY DO I KEEP SEEING YOU.
me: you better fix me because i think my dad is about to flip his shit.

but this third ER visit on tuesday evening was quite fantastic. they drugged me and got the convulsions to stop, but instead of passing out, i perked up. so jacob and i ordered a pizza. and it came straight to the ER. like, the pizza guy wandered into the ER looking for me and i was like, THAT'S MY PIZZA, BABY.

they admitted me again, got me a room on the fourth floor (where i have a great view of taco bell), and jacob and my brother hung out for a while. after they left i stayed up and did internet things. because i'm social media enthusiast and i was back in the hospital for an undetermined amount of time. what better time than to be on tumblr?

here's how tuesday night went.

1 am. i went to sleep.
2 am. a nurse came in and checked my vitals. i was half awake.
4:45 am. i woke up and couldn't fall back asleep.
5 am. got on the internet.
5:30 am. started trolling people on facebook.
6 am. fell back asleep.
6:30 am. some lady came into my room and took like, five vials of my blood from my left arm and didn't even bother to smile at me.
7:30 am. my neurologist came in and talked to me. i was way too tired to comprehend anything that he was saying.
8:30 am. a small asian lady came into my room and randomly started to clean it. um.
9:30 am. my nurse came and told me that i was going to have a brain MRI and she'd send up a team to take out my nose ring because i didn't know how.

taking our your nose ring hurts when it's not fully healed, kids.

the brain MRI was fun. a nice guy named sam wheeled me downstairs and a nice guy named mark did the MRI. i fell asleep. when i got back, i buzzed for the nice nurse to put my nose ring back in. she got it back in just fine, but then she dropped the tiny ball that holds it together.

three nurses were on their hands and knees for about fifteen minutes scouring my hospital floor. i can't say that it wasn't awesome, because it was.

around one, barbara and mariah brought me lunch, which was exciting, because the hospital food is the same as the cafeteria food at alma, WHICH I WILL NEVER ESCAPE, GAH. they brought me a teddy bear and we sat around and talked about allll kinds of stuff until mariah had to leave for swim practice.

then i skyped with emma! that was exciting. after we were done skyping, jacob came over and then we sat around and did homework like boring people, because at this rate, i had been out of class for three days, and with a nineteen credit load, that's not good. after jacob left i ate chocolate cake.

this is a really big deal. last week i ate half of a chocolate cake with my hands. willard has it on video somewhere.

after dinner another doctor came and told me that my brain is normal, which is great. i don't have any tumors or weird brain bleeding places and my brain ventricles are fine, and i'm thinking, brains have ventricles? true story. he told me that it's probably a weird side effect from my zoloft. as if my terrible adjustment period wasn't bad enough. then he told me that he did zumba with his wife and i gave him mad respect.

THEN MY BROTHER WENT TO WALMART AND BOUGHT ME THE AVENGERS AND IT WAS PRETTY MUCH THE GREATEST THING IN EXISTENCE AND I WAS SO HAPPY I ALMOST PEED MY HOSPITAL GOWN.

i then skyped with hannah, emma's twin counterpart, and that was delightful. then willard, bobby and talon came to visit me, and we sat around and joked about how i felt fine but was stuck here, how katie brought me a care package with teddy grahams and a bow for my hair in a cool harry potter bag, and willard's terrible back surgery experience that involved a lot of peeing. they brought me back the bitch slapper since i had left it in willard's car when i thought i was going back to campus but hey, just kidding, i was back in the ER three hours later.

after they left i took a really nice hot shower and i sang like i was about to win american idol. then, once i got out of the shower, i was like, mmmm i feel funny. better buzz my nurse.

then it was like, ATTACK OF THE CONVULSIONS and i was like, seriously. what is this crap. i JUST showered and now i'm all sweaty again. and i was about to watch the avengers and now i'm all drugged, ugh.

IV drugs, children, make you sleep like a baby. i got the best sleep ever last night.

my neurologist came this morning and he was like, soooo you had another convulsion last night, and i was like, yessir i did, and he says, well we think that you can go home today. and i was like, GREAT!

until i get to go home, i will do my homework. and then... i will unwrap the avengers and i will watch it and live tweet it. 

i honestly can't wait until like... three months from now. and i'll go to my twitter profile and be like, "lololol, remember those like, five days that i was in the hospital and i tweeted about every five seconds about the food and my bathroom sink making noise and people visiting me and bringing me shit? yeahhhhh."

i'm really hoping i get to go back to campus today. that would be pretty sweet. assuming i'm not back in the ER with jacob  five hours from now and the doctor like, SERIOUSLY, EMILY. STOP IT.

until then, here's my cartoon captain america for no apparent reason.

FOR 'MRRCA.

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.

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."

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.

i blogged about my weekend.

i want to take this moment to say that i am an olympics nut. this is not my post about the olympics.

but i just want to say that i am in my basement, where we have the only TV that has channels, and i'm curled up with my laptop, my sorority blanket, and i'm not planning on moving. all i need is my stuffed simba.

THIS post is about my weekend. and how awesome it was. it was so awesome, it's going to come in parts.

are you ready? of course you're ready. you have to be ready.

EMILY GOES AND VISITS HER BOYFRIEND, JACOB, IN MICHIGAN FOR THE WEEKEND.


this is the encompassing title. that's not a part. that's the title of the entire weekend. awesome.

we're not cute. we're frightening.

in case you forget what jacob and i look like, or you never knew to begin with, here's a cute picture of us. or something.

so i leave at four in the afternoon, because of course, jacob has to train for his iron man or whatever he's training for, and he's angsty because he has a stress fracture and he can't run, so he was swimming, and this is a really long sentence, but i left at four. my mother warns me about storms coming into the area. so i'm driving with the windows down and i'm excited to get to the michigan border because then i can listen to my indie station, and i'm looking at the sky, and i'm driving straight toward dark clouds.

then i'm driving straight toward black skies.

and then it starts raining, and my first thought is, hmm, i should roll up my windows, my guitar is in the back seat and i spent a good sixty bucks on that sucker.


my second thought is OMG I CAN'T SEE IT'S RAINING SO FREAKIN' HARD I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING OMG I'M GONNA DIE.

it was exciting.

the next fun part of my drive was on 94 in michigan. 94 is your generic 2 lane highway. just like 69, which is most of my drive to alma. but there's just something about it that's so different from 69.

there is so much traffic on 94 it's ridiculous. cruise control? forget about it.

i'm already late because i took too long eating an apple before my drive, and about twenty miles from my exit to jacob's, traffic starts to slow down. i'm behind a semi and i'm thinking maybe i should get into the left lane if i can, but i decide to stick it out behind mr. semi. we're moving toward a traffic jam. we're averaging five miles an hour. i'm thinking about breaking my phone while driving ban and calling jacob while my car is stopped.

we're beyond kalamazoo. i'm not sure why there's this much traffic and why it's standing still.

of course. somebody got pulled over. it caused a five mile traffic jam. because somebody got pulled over.

the train wreck effect? "holy cow! that person got pulled over! i need to slow down to ten miles an hour and stare! never mind that i'm on a heavily trafficked highway where the speed limit is seventy!"

THE OLYMPIC CEREMONIES WERE... UH... AWESOME.


i'm trying to figure out why i missed the beijing opening ceremonies. i really am. i did nothing that summer. i went to LA in june and helped out hundreds of homeless people, but that was about it. so why did i miss the best opening ceremonies of all time?

jacob could care less about the olympics. i live for the olympics. best. summer. ever.

me: we have to watch the opening ceremonies.
jacob: but i rented pulp fiction.
me: NBC. NOW. I'VE WAITED FOUR YEARS FOR THIS.

before they start, jacob's news channel spends a lot of time talking about all of the michigan athletes. most of them are GVSU rowers. which is awesome. rowing is cool.

and then suddenly kenneth branaugh is there with a cigar and a top hat, looking like abraham lincoln, and i remember how AWESOME kenneth branaugh is and then it's opening ceremonies time and he's reciting shakespeare on a hill and it was awesome.

emily's personal highlights.

1. kenneth branaugh. obviously.
2. THEY SET FIRE TO THE RAIN.
3. those industrial columns were pretty cool.
4. just kidding, harry potter, voldemort's back and he's 100 feet tall.
5. that kid. his shirt said "frankie says relax".
6. the queen. she's cool. and no, she didn't sky dive. c'mon guys, she's in her eighties.
7. the fireworks. they were awesome.
8. i just love the olympics.

during the parade of nations, jacob gets up and starts to put in pulp fiction.

me and jacob's mom: what are you doing.
jacob: if we're going to watch pulp fiction we have to watch it now.
me: but france is coming up in the parade. i like france.
jacob: but i rented it.
jacob's mom: put that DVD away, sit down, and watch the parade. NOW.

later, jacob and me: SENEGAL! ITALY! SPAIN! COUNTRIES!

apparently, we like all the same countries.

then, even later, me: GREAT BRITAIN! SAEKHGJSEFG! I LOVE GREAT BRITAIN! AHHH! ENGLAND! AHHHH! THE UNION FLAG! THEIR TEAM IS SO BEAUTIFUL!

i kinda like england. a lot.

RUNNING INTO ADAM AND STUFF, LIKE KAYAKING


jacob and i went kayaking in the morning, which was fun. i associate kayaking with god, which isn't that weird if you think about it, because the first time i went kayaking was at church camp. we paddled around a small lake and we got out at a sand bar, and while jacob was sitting with his butt stuck in the sand, a fish bit his hip.

you should see that kid jump.

halfway back across the lake, i took a few minutes to meditate with god in my kayak, and lo behold, a teeny blue damsel fly landed on my finger. he smiled at me. we bonded for a good five minutes. he was really cute. god is good.

after kayaking, i cheered a lot for great britain in men's road cycling, and then jacob took me out to lunch at a coffee shop, where we ran into his good and awesome friend adam.

after having a nice lunch with adam, we decide to go to the antique shop next door.

i buy a lion shaped cookie cutter for a dollar.

think of all of the beautiful lion shaped cookies that i can make! it's lion shaped! my happiness was rather incredible.

after that, we went into an art building and looked at some fancy wood work, and then, like the hipsters we are, we sat by the river, played guitars, and sang folk music. that was pretty awesome.

then we went to the grocery store to pick up sour cream, and i wanted an adult beverage for jacob's bonfire. the michigan cashier had fun with my indiana driver's license. and adam bought me a delicious doughnut.

THE EIGHT HOUR BONFIRE OF HAPPINESS


jacob decided that this weekend was a good weekend for a get together with friends. because we're RAs all the time, not just at school, if you were of age and wanted to bring an adult beverage, you could, which is why i bought that yummy wine cooler. at six, jacob's high school friends came over, we started a fire, and we had a bonfire. because that's what happens when you start fires, right? but we started a fire and had a bonfire.

until three in the morning.

we grilled hamburgers on the fire (except for jacob and me) and janaya and stephen, jacob's awesome friends that just got married last weekend, showed up with a very large jug of lemon vodka. janaya shared some of it with me.

it tasted like lemon rubbing alcohol. i'll stick with wine coolers.

stephen, jacob, alex, joe, and eric all smoked pipes, janaya got drunk and we became best friends, kelsey showed up around eleven, and we talked about all kinds of things.

and allegan, where jacob lives, has stars. fort wayne doesn't have stars. i spent a decent amount of time just looking up at the stars.

we ate yummy food. we laughed. we talked. oh, and i got to hold a gun.

when it comes to guns, i take the odd thomas/chuck bartowski approach.

odd thomas: "i'm spooked by guns."
chuck bartowski: "i get the idea of, uh, point and click? but see, i've, uh, well i've never actually, uh, i've never really fired a gun, or really, uh, held a gun, or killed anybody with a gun, and i just don't think this is a good idea-"

i've fired a gun. i've shot a rifle. at popcans in the desert. that was fun.

this was a hand held pistol.

jacob made sure about eighty times that it was unloaded before i touched it. i kept it pointed at the ground. i was still convinced that it was loaded.

i held a personal pistol in my hand for about a minute and i wanted to pee myself in terror.

rest assured, if i were to murder you, it would not be with a gun.

AS MY VHS COLLECTION GROWS


janaya and stephen and jacob and i went on a double date on sunday, after sleeping in from being up until three having the magical bonfire. we decided that we were going to go the antique fair, which i guess is a really big deal.

there were thousands of people. thousands of vendors. thousands of items. people from different states.

it was a really big deal.

after four hours of hardcore antiquing and pining over a couch and drinking a fabulous expensive lemonade, i came away with titanic (and the little mermaid) on VHS.

i just really enjoy VHS tapes. and more importantly, watching them.

the couch that i pined over was awesome, by the way. totally awesome. it was yellow, leather, circular, and came with yellow, leather, and circular chairs. but i'm poor. i don't have 750 bucks for two awesome chairs and an awesome couch.

i also pined over a schwinn bike from the fifties, too many paper weights, and a lot of really awesome rotary phones.

after four hours of antiquing with janaya, who's an absolute pro, we only saw half of the vendors. seriously. this antique fair was that. awesome.

and now i've come to the last part of my weekend. hold onto your pants.

AND THEN I ILLEGALLY SMUGGLED A WASP BACK INTO INDIANA


the drive from allegan to fort wayne is a good two and a half hours. i was making it on 94 with my windows down and listening to the fantastic indie station. i stopped to pee outside of kalamazoo (that awesome lemonade caught up with me) and then i get back in my car and i'm ready to head to my grandparents' for popcorn and olympic swimming and gymnastics. my ears hurt, so i roll up in my windows.

i'm on the higway. i hear a buzzing sound.

i see something large dive bomb into my passenger wheel well.

i ignore it. it's something big and black, but i can't hear it anymore, and besides, the buzzing made it sound like it was dying.

twenty miles later. something flies across my line of vision and goes into my wheel well.

pretty sure it's a wasp of some kind. i have cruise control. if i don't move my legs, it should have no reason to sting me.

another ten miles. i ignore it.

then it decides that it wants to dive bomb my steering column. now it's somewhere around my steering wheel and my dashboard, and now i'm freaking out. i don't know where the damn thing is. i move to pass a semi. i flip my turn signal.

it's on my turn signal toggle.


it erupts into a loud amount of buzzing, it flies at my face, i scream and don't crash, and then it's sitting on my windshield, right by my rear view mirror.

this isn't a yellow jacket. this is a big nasty black wasp thing. i have my air conditioning on. i roll down both of my windows to give it incentive to leave.

it sits.

and when i say it sits on my windshield, it sat. for almost forty miles.


those were the longest forty miles of my life, let me tell you. i spent more time looking at the lethal bastard than i did looking at the highway.

we near indiana. to ease my nerves, i negotiate.

me: hey there, wasp. i know it's a long fly to indiana, so i'm willing to drive you there, if you promise not to sting me or make me crash my car. i feel like this is a good deal. when we reach indiana, please exit to the right, out of the passenger side window.
wasp: cool. i'm just going to sit here and scare the shit out of you.

we reach indiana. it doesn't move. i'm praying now. praying. because i don't want to get stung (i've never really been stung. i was once. in the netherlands. some form of dutch bee. it doesn't count.) and i certainly don't want to crash my car if it flies at me.

ten miles into indiana it starts crawling. toward me. and then it flies at me and out the window.

i scream. keep control of the car. breathe explosively. roll up the windows and continue to breathe explosively.

i adjust my position by leaning forward and cracking my back.

the bastard is still in the car. nudged up against my car door. IT HASN'T LEFT. IT IS STILL IN MY VEHICLE.

i scream again. keep control of the car. roll down the window.

after nearly seventy miles of wasp smuggling, it exits at angola.

it was pretty much... awful.

THE END OF THIS POST AS WE KNOW IT (AND I FEEL FINE?)

let's recap.

1. i went to michigan.
2. i went kayaking and bonded with a dragon fly.
3. i went antiquing and got a lion shaped cookie cutter and two VHS tapes.
4. the opening ceremonies were awesome. i recapped it in a list like this one.
5. i went to a coffee shop and played guitar by a river.
6. i had an eight hour bonfire that was awesome.
7. i held a gun and was scared out of my mind.
8. i illegally smuggled a wasp across state lines.

it was a pretty awesome weekend.

next post: how emily feels about the olympics. coming soon to a blog near you.