I moved out today. I packed up shop in good ol 714 and am on my way out of SF. I'm also crying. Today ended my first year of college. Freshman year went by faster than anything I've ever experienced and it's absolutely sureal. I left behind a dirty dorm room, a great view, quite the sleeping arangement, an empty closet and an incredible room mate.
The one thing I was the most scared about when I was getting ready to leave for school was my roommate. Who she would be, how she would act, if she would judge me, and would we be able to get along and relate to one another. After a couple NOVEL emails and random phone calls, I slowly began to get to know my room mate. She had played basketball, was the girl who did everything, and was also a workaholic. She had quite the family history and an even better sense of humor. In short, she was me with diet coke instead of chocolate milk, The View instead of the Office, and designer jeans instead of a longboard. She was unlike anything I had ever seen, and I know I'm only feeding the fire of confidence that rages inside of her.
As we began to get to know eachother, we became more than good friends. We had only lived together a couple months and already we were more comfortable around each other than people who had known each other for years. She didn't care about my mess, in fact hers was usually bigger. She didn't care about my bad jokes, her stories were longer and much more random. Lastly, she didn't judge me.
Really, theres nothing else I can say. She was the best thing that could have happened to me freshman year on so many levels. It's so hard to leave her behind and know that even though I'm sure we'll keep in touch, we may never wake up in the same bed, share shower flops, buy each other diet cokes, facebook stalk together, actually stalk together, or share the memories we made this year again. And that hurts.
I didn't think I would cry when I left. But Karls was somethign else.
So long SF, I'll see you soon.
Karls, love you baby. Make it a blast, you always do.
much love
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Ahhhh the strep...how I've missed thee
So yesterday (monday) I woke up with a soar throat. No biggie I thought, I was stressed from finals, was working out a lot to train for Leah's triathlon and wasn't getting a lot of sleep. So it was all to be expected. I went through the day feeling rather crappy, just in a general state of crapiness. Then I went to my drawing class that goes from 7-10. Around 8:30 it hits me.
When I was younger I used to get strep throat allllllll the. When I was a baby it was ear infections...but as I grew older, for some reason my body loooooved the strep throat slash hated it with every fiber of it's being. A big chuck of my childhood memories are waking up in the middle of the night with all the tell tale signs that strep was in and ready to reek havoc. My dad would take me to the ER, greet the nurses with a familiar hello, and get me a popsicle. Of course my temperature would be soaring, sweat would be dripping and I would be freezing. One throat swab later I was curled up in the front seat of my dad's car with a hefty portion of penicillin and another popsicle. Thus was beginning of my age old battle with strep throat.
I have only been really sick once since I've been here and as I've grown older my strep pattern has slowed to about once a year. Well in drawing, my time had come. Within 10 minutes I had a fever, chills that could shake the building and aches and pains like no other. 10:00 finally rolled around and I called my dad only to hear the same old "get to the hospital and get some meds...now" So I did.
Of course the ER, which was the only thing open, has a priority policy. I understand. And of course, they guarantee a nurse will see you within 30 minutes so you think they're speedy quick. Then you get to wait for ANOTHER three hours until the doctor gets around to seeing you. The nurses were not friendly, and the doctor really didn't seem to care. He woke me up from the hour long nap I was taking waiting for him, felt my throat, talked really fast, and only another hour later I got a prescription for Tylenol codeine and penicillin. With a fever of 102 they offered public safety to drive my miserable self back to my dorm where I climbed into bed shaking and chilled to endure the long night of hallucinogenic dreams and severe changes of boy temperature.
This morning I woke up to an even bigger headache and the knowledge that I had to walk to lucky's to get the meds. Peeling myself out of bed in a pool of sweat I clothed myself to the max and made the miserable trek to the store. When I got there I out the order in and went to collect all the necessary items I knew would aid in my recovery: popsicles, orange juice, and gatorade. As I was more or less stumbling down the aisles i began to feel...queezy. I didn't usually throw up when I had strep, so I didn't really know how to handle the feeling. So i began to mozy toward the bathroom in case something were to erupt from deep within me. I began to walk faster. It was coming and i was almost there.......missed it. As i turned my head toward the nearest garbage can I could find, I vomited. And not before I reached the can. So here I was, in the middle of the local grocery store throwing up what little there was in my belly. With much embarrassment I cleaned up what I had left on the floor and added one more thing to my list: 7-up.
And so here I am. In the heat of finals and miserably ill. I don't even want to think about the catch up I'll have to play to get back in shape for the triathlon. Oh, well, for now it's just popsicles and orange juice.
much love
When I was younger I used to get strep throat allllllll the. When I was a baby it was ear infections...but as I grew older, for some reason my body loooooved the strep throat slash hated it with every fiber of it's being. A big chuck of my childhood memories are waking up in the middle of the night with all the tell tale signs that strep was in and ready to reek havoc. My dad would take me to the ER, greet the nurses with a familiar hello, and get me a popsicle. Of course my temperature would be soaring, sweat would be dripping and I would be freezing. One throat swab later I was curled up in the front seat of my dad's car with a hefty portion of penicillin and another popsicle. Thus was beginning of my age old battle with strep throat.
I have only been really sick once since I've been here and as I've grown older my strep pattern has slowed to about once a year. Well in drawing, my time had come. Within 10 minutes I had a fever, chills that could shake the building and aches and pains like no other. 10:00 finally rolled around and I called my dad only to hear the same old "get to the hospital and get some meds...now" So I did.
Of course the ER, which was the only thing open, has a priority policy. I understand. And of course, they guarantee a nurse will see you within 30 minutes so you think they're speedy quick. Then you get to wait for ANOTHER three hours until the doctor gets around to seeing you. The nurses were not friendly, and the doctor really didn't seem to care. He woke me up from the hour long nap I was taking waiting for him, felt my throat, talked really fast, and only another hour later I got a prescription for Tylenol codeine and penicillin. With a fever of 102 they offered public safety to drive my miserable self back to my dorm where I climbed into bed shaking and chilled to endure the long night of hallucinogenic dreams and severe changes of boy temperature.
This morning I woke up to an even bigger headache and the knowledge that I had to walk to lucky's to get the meds. Peeling myself out of bed in a pool of sweat I clothed myself to the max and made the miserable trek to the store. When I got there I out the order in and went to collect all the necessary items I knew would aid in my recovery: popsicles, orange juice, and gatorade. As I was more or less stumbling down the aisles i began to feel...queezy. I didn't usually throw up when I had strep, so I didn't really know how to handle the feeling. So i began to mozy toward the bathroom in case something were to erupt from deep within me. I began to walk faster. It was coming and i was almost there.......missed it. As i turned my head toward the nearest garbage can I could find, I vomited. And not before I reached the can. So here I was, in the middle of the local grocery store throwing up what little there was in my belly. With much embarrassment I cleaned up what I had left on the floor and added one more thing to my list: 7-up.
And so here I am. In the heat of finals and miserably ill. I don't even want to think about the catch up I'll have to play to get back in shape for the triathlon. Oh, well, for now it's just popsicles and orange juice.
much love
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