Maybe it's the narcotics they're giving me, or the fact that I'm going to be alone for the next couple of hours of the day, or maybe I'm just having one of those days, but I feel the need to say this:
Since I've been in the hospital for the past week, I've come to learn a lot. I've learned a lot about patience (and I always thought I had enough of it-- I'm learning that still isn't true), about hope, and also about love.
I'm grateful that my mother is in town, by my bedside nearly all day, entertaining me, talking to me, rocking me when I get so frustrated or can't deal with the pain. I'm grateful that I have a man in my life who always tries to make me laugh when I feel depressed as I lie in bed, who massages my feet so they don't atrophy, who thinks that I'm beautiful despite the voluminous hospital gown, messy hair, and feeding tube up my nose; who is patient with me when I take my frustration and cabin fever out on him, who walks me through the hallways at a too-slow pace like a 95-year-old woman, and who cries a little from frustration when there's nothing he can do to help me (don't tell him I said that last part).
I'm grateful to my siblings who come to visit me almost every day, for the good friends that I have that come to visit and talk about food so I don't forget that all there is in the world is gross broth and a chemical mixture they shove through your nose; and who come and talk and laugh with me about normal things so I don't feel like an invalid in a hospital.
I'm grateful to the countless nurses I've met over the past week who get to know me, who seem concerned for my welfare, who see me still here a few days later and are sad that I haven't been able to go home yet, who are vying for me to be able to go home so I can do all the exciting things in my life I have coming up.
I'm grateful that this is only a case of acute chronic pancreatitis, and not anything more like the other poor souls in this ward who have cancer and deal with much greater pain than I do now.
Thank you to all of you who are praying for me, who come see me-- to all of you, I love you, and I'm so glad to have you in my life at this time.
This is not what I normally write about. Forgive me.
Ok, here's something a little random. This is a picture of me in May of 2006, right before my 17th birthday. The part that I want you to notice-- not my strange pose or the glowing eyes of my cat-- is my belt. Yes, I know it's very difficult to see...but just know that it was an awesome belt. I stole it from my Dad's closet (now you know where I get my skinniness from), as he hadn't worn it in decades. It was one of those ones with the leather buckle-y part, and the rest was cloth-- it had blue, green, and yellow stripes. It was a sweet belt. I literally wore it until it fell apart.
Anyway, as much as I love the belt I use regularly now (which has awesome dogs and birds):
I'm ready to diversify. And I have found myself thinking back to that old belt I wore religiously in high school (with terribly light pants...). I want one like that again-- something subtly colorful, but still normal enough to be able to wear every day if I want to. Something like this maybe:
Minus the weird flag shirt. And the light pants again. And the phone necklace.
1. Yesterday I rear-ended some dude stopped in the middle of the road. He didn't have his brakelights on. It was wet. I couldn't stop in time. There was no damage to either of our cars. He is telling my insurance company anyway so he can get a new paint job. My insurance is going up, even if it ends up costing $5 to "repair" that little smudge that was already on his bumper. Awesome.
2. If you are a company that sells expensive items, and you originally charge me double and make it so I can't buy food for a week and have $2 total in my bank account for that long while you poke along attempting to void the transaction, and THEN have the guts to tell me I can't have a refund on my $500 thing when I say I don't feel good about buying it anymore (after the first thing got straightened out), without telling me in the first place it was final sale, then you are an idiot. End of story.
3. My pizza burned. And stuck to the pan. Lame lame lame.
Then I saw this, and I'm trying to make it make me feel better, but I don't if it's working. It is funny though...
I was doing some exploring this evening on songs, and dancing, and dancing to songs, and I inevitably wound up looking at dozens of clips of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I have my mom to thank for a great appreciation of old movies.
Here's Fred Astaire doing "We Saw the Sea" from Follow the Fleet. I sing this all the time, but people just give me looks askance. Pshaw. It's funny.
And Fred and Ginger doing "Never Gonna Dance" from Top Hat.
Fred Astaire singing "Let's Face the Music and Dance." I love this song. And to think they originally said of FA "Can't act, can't sing, can dance a little." It's just the song, no video to speak of:
...And Ginger Rogers singing "Let Yourself Go," another one I often sing. It starts about 54 seconds in (the beginning is instrumental). Video is a slideshow of pictures from the dance of the same title, but really you're better off just watching them dance. Unfortunately there's no singing though in that version.
Some days I wish I had tv solely so I could watch Turner Classic Movies. I miss that.
I may not have known it at the time, but I have honestly been waiting for this moment (or I guess tomorrow night's moment) since I was in fifth grade.
It is the premiere of the last movie of Harry Potter, and it is the end of the series that has carried me into adulthood (is that sad? Yep. But I don't care.)
I posted about the first video, but here, in anticipation of Harry Potter coming out on THURSDAY NIGHT WOOHOO!!!! is "American Talk 2: Red, White, and Yee-Haw!" with (some of) the cast of Harry Potter!
I was in Connecticut this past week, and while we were walking on the beach of the Sound towards a lighthouse, we came across this adorable wedding reception. It was in an old building with a carousel inside. I am in love with it, and totally jealous of whosever reception it was. Here is my favorite song today:
My sister gave birth to her third child last week-- a beautiful baby girl. She had me come out and take pictures. You can see more on my facebook, or if you are family and are interested in seeing all the pictures in all their states, let me know and I will send you some!
I feel like I don't really post about my own life very often. But now I feel a personal post is necessary, as so much has happened lately!
I am going to make a list, because I am lazy, and I like lists (and a random picture):
1. I have a new niece! She is adorable. Her name is Maya, and I love her already. I hope that she keeps her dark hair, since both her parents have dark brown hair, and neither of her siblings do. I took some photos of her with my film camera for my sister, but they haven't been developed yet, or I would share some of my favorites with you. Look for those in a post to come...
2. Field School finished yesterday, and boy am I glad. I learned so much over the past two months, and I am incredibly grateful for the experience, but as I have learned, my feeble body cannot handle that kind of physical pressure for that long. That and I think when you throw that many similar personalities together for that long, people come out loving (but mostly hating) each other. Which is sad.
3. I have exciting vacations ahead, and I am stoked. First off are four days back home in Fallbrook to see two of my bestest old friends, then (after a two-day hiatus in UT where I will work super hard at the museum to earn back monies lost during Field School) four days in Washington DC/ New York City with my dear sister Adrien, then a few more days in Connecticut relaxing and doing fun eastcoast-y things with my friend Sam.
4. Ok, wait, he's not just my friend. I guess he's my boyfriend.
5. I'm going to Italy in September? Yeah, I am. Well, as soon as I pay I am. I'm super stoked though :D I need to learn Italian liek nao. I will be taking a language class, a couple of humanities classes, and doing a cooking "internship." I cannot believe I have this opportunity! I'm very excited.
Sometimes things come at just the right time for me. This blog post that talks about patience in looking for marriage, and watching Under the Tuscan Sun for the bajillionth time with my sister.
Even if marriage isn't something I or you or anyone is worried about, the principle can be applied to anything. Happiness, mainly, I think. Just be happy, because it's going to be okay eventually. Don't worry about it, just let it be!
Under the Tuscan Sun is one of my favorite movies because it really lifts your spirits, even if it is a little cheesy at times (not to mention the fact that she basically is living my dream in the movie). This is the message I'm talking about that it gives:
I feel like I've head a really productive past few days. Saturday I took two finals and submitted two final essays, then I came home and cleaned out the laundry room (which now looks spic and span, too bad the washer is broken so we can't hang out in there and enjoy the cleanliness). Sunday was Sunday. Yesterday I exercised with my roommate, then I embroidered adorable designs (if I do say so myself) on two onesies for Unborn Niece Swinford and went for a run (the first time in over a year--and I did 10 blocks straight before walking! Go me!). Oh look, here are the onesies:
Then I graded all the remaining assignments for the class I am a TA for-- now there are only finals to grade.
This morning I found out I got a scholarship for Fall semester! It makes me happy because it will be kind of the same cost as if I were to graduate in December, which I can't do anymore due to one stinkin' class in Winter term. But it's excellent, I love getting free money! Then I went to work for about four hours and moved approx. 30 metates from all over the museum into one room, and built the shelves for them to go on (metal, evil). This is a metate for those unaware (the big groundstone, not the smaller "mano" used to grind):
Yeah. 30 of them. My boss helped, but still. Then I was told to destroy a giant plywood workbench to make room for new shelving. Eep! It took about 45 minutes, and I acquired a few scrapes and pokes, not to mention a bruised knuckle when the tabletop fell on my hand at one point, but I did it.
Needless to say, I'm very worn out. That is why this post is not very exciting. But! I only have two finals to go this week. I get to move upstairs on Saturday. I'm happy and feel accomplished. And very hungry! What to eat, what to eat...
And now, I order you to get up and dance for the duration of this song. It will make you happy, guaranteed:
Essays, grading, studying for final exams, working, trying to keep up with everything... Finals, once again, are trying to get the better of me. The stress makes me do strange things, like crank out actually really good stories on the spot about dancing circus elephants, put up a hearts saying "S+J" next to the James Dean poster that appeared in our bathroom yesterday, and eat ridiculous amounts of cookies to keep me awake when I'm up at all ours doing the first two things.
And yet, I must be a glutton for punishment, because I'm already planning which Grad schools I want to apply to next year. Like this one, for example. Courses include "Research and Reconstruction of Old Ships," "Deep-Submergence Archaeology," "Classical Seafaring," and "Outfitting and Sailing the Wooden Ship." How can I pass that up?
Anyway, if you're in the same wooden ship of Finals as me, maybe take a break and listen to some good songs (I'll make the format small so you're not intimidated, there's no videos anyway):
I have a problem. Did you ever read the book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie (or If You Give a Moose a Muffin)? If not, I'm sorry you had such a sheltered childhood, and you should probably make a trip to the local library. My problem is that I am basically the mouse (or moose) in that story. Sometimes I'll be doing something, and find a few minutes later that I've accomplished something else entirely, and have gone through a chain of other things. I tell myself "You're such a mouse-a-cookie." And it's so sadly true.
For example, when I walked in the door a little while ago, I picked up the gas bill that was lying on the kitchen table and walked downstairs, intending to write a check for it immediately so I wouldn't forget to do it later. I realized that my checkbook was sitting by the computer, so I walked over there, decided I needed music to write a check to (I need music to do almost everything. But that's another problem entirely), and sat down at the computer to turn the music on, but realized I hadn't checked my email in a while. The second message was a notice about an end-of-the-year pizza party for my TA job, so I grabbed my backpack to get out my planner to check the date and write it down, but my backpack was very heavy, and it reminded me that I had had to balance it and the groceries I'd bought on my way home from work while I was coming in the door earlier that day. Then I realized the groceries were still sitting on the counter waiting to be put away, so I walked into the kitchen, opened the first bag of groceries wherein lay the receipt, which I proceeded to throw away. As I looked up from the trash can, I saw the extra Brita filters on top of the fridge, and realized that I was about a month overdue in changing out the old filter (don't tell my roommates, they've been bragging to people who come over and drink our water that it's clean and superior to everyone else's), so I rinsed out the filter and set it to soak in preparation for replacement. Finally, I got somewhat back on track and turned back to the groceries. There in the bag was a box of cookies I'd bought as a treat for being such a diligent student lately. My mouth watered and I went to open the box, when I realized what was happening and thought to myself, smiling, "Mouse-a-cookie," especially since I was about to eat a cookie, and knew that I would then want a glass of milk (which is how the story goes, for those uninformed).
In any case, the filter is ready to be replaced, the groceries are put away, two cookies are eaten, I'm writing this blog post, and...oh wait, I'm supposed to be writing a check for the utilities.
I thought it was really...good, just because I can't think of a better word. Anyway, it was really good to read, so you should check it out. Just sayin'.
UPDATE:
Another good blog post was found on this blog, which I often enjoy reading. Here it be. Or just read this talk, since that's why I liked the post so much. That talk/post, plus hearing this talk in conference yesterday have really kind of made me hope that someday I'll be married to someone terrific. I just hope that the guys (or just A guy, since I only need to marry one at a time) I know feel the same way...
I'm currently in the process of completing a 13-page essay on the relationship between men and food-eating contests. It's ridiculous. I promise I'll get back to "real" blogging (aka well thought-out posts) when things calm down at school (ie when Finals stop breathing down my neck).
Have you seen the new teaser poster for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2?
The comment was made here that the series has matured incredibly since the first film:
I feel like I am one of the lucky ones to be someone who grew up in a way with Harry Potter (as cheesy as that might sound). I feel like I've been about the same age as the characters almost the whole time, and the Harry Potter books make up a huge part of my childhood post-elementary school. Anyway! That's only a part of the reason why I love it so much. Sidetrack.
I also recently became aware (from here) of a deleted scene from DH part 1 that was released pre-DVD (which comes out April 6th-- woohoo!). Take a gander:
Also, just because, here are a couple of neat videos to check out:
Monday night marked the occasion of my very second concert (not including the strange Christian Rock concert I went to for reasons I still don't understand). I wasn't terribly excited because I knew there was no way it could outshine my very first concert experience. In any case, it didn't start off with a (good) bang.
The time on our tickets said the doors opened at 6pm and the show began at 7pm. Two of my roommates went early, and my other roommate and I arrived at 7pm. Unfortunately, the folks at Velour must have slept in, because the doors didn't open until 8pm. We spent the hour in the shadow of the building, forlornly watching the thermometer at the bank across the street as the temperature slowly dropped from 32 degrees, to 31, to 30...and finally the doors opened. There was then a good 45 minutes of sitting on the hard wooden benches under the vigorously blowing fans before at last the first opening act ascended the stage: Cubworld, a large bearded Hawai'ian man and his accompianists. I'd heard a few of Cubworld's songs a couple of years ago, and they seemed mellow and nice, but this time around, it was quite different, way more rock-y. After Cubworld came Cas Haley, another large bearded man who was very fun and funny as he sang. He gained a lot of respect from me until he sang a song about legalizing marijuana, which was just ridiculous. But I'm still going to brag about how he pushed past me in the crowd afterward at least three times.
Finally, FINALLY, Trevor Hall's band came on stage to set up, and one of my roommates and I weasled our way up through the harangue to the front where the rest of our party was standing excitedly waiting. As we were waiting, listening to the incomprehensible music coming over the speakers and chatting casually, I felt a sharp pain in my back, as though someone had rammed their cranium into my shoulder blade, which is actually what happened, as some random hipster dude in tight pants had passed out onto me. This definitely happens to me a lot-- a girl passed out on my feet during a boring tour of the Denver Public Library on our King Tut trip last semester. Actually, people passing out kind of freaks me out a little, because I feel obligated to use my first aid skills. Not that I don't want to, I just don't want to find out at the wrong time that I'm incompetent.
Anyway, after that episode, fog filled the room, a sitar hummed, and Trevor Hall descended from the ceiling. Just kidding. He walked on stage nonchalantly, feet bare, jeans cuffed, prayer beads and dreadlocks swinging. Most of the songs the band played at first, I hadn't heard (apparently the 18-song CD my roommates made for me in preparation wasn't half of what he has put out), and I was beginning to feel a bit ridiculous, and the French Composition I had yet to write began to nag at the back of my mind. The two boys at my left pushed past me to show a message to the two girls at my right (which read something to the effect of "Let's hook up after the show"), and I felt even more ridiculous. The drummer suddenly was the only one on stage, playing a crazy solo that could've been at any metal show (but what do I know). But then, the noise stopped and the drummer disappeared, Trevor Hall walked back up on stage, the crowd obnoxiously began yelling requests, Trevor Hall felt embarrassed and criticized and shyly began to play his solo song, and I had a revelation.
He played a song called "Te Amo," and it was beautiful. I can't get it out of my mind, and as we all stood silently taking in the simple melody and poetic lyrics, I surprisingly felt like crying. The whole night, the crowd had been loud and crazy, and suddenly we all felt the same quiet peace. At risk of getting far too overly cheesey, I'll leave it at that, but really, there was something there.
Trevor Hall playing "Te Amo" (that's actually a lie, but it's the best picture of T-Hall by himself)
Listen (ignore the chit-chat and just focus on the song):
After "Te Amo," the band came back and they all played a number of other songs, one of which was "Om Shakti Om" (yeah). During the chorus, we all clapped in time and sang "Om Shakti Om" (those exact words) together, and my French essay faded away, and the criticism I knew would come when I recounted these events to certain people subsided (but now that I'm thinking about it again, I fully expect the criticism to come!), and we jumped and clapped and chanted/sang together and it was wonderful.
There were a few more songs, including a two-song encore, a slightly random poetry recitation (of the song "My Baba"), and then came the last song, the only one played that night (besides some Bob Marley remixes from Cas Haley & Trevor Hall) that I knew all the words to-- "Lime Tree," one of my favorite songs that appeared on the CD from my roommates.
The band playing some song
When the concert finally ended, and the crowd rushed to greet Mr. Hall, my roommate and I pressed our way through the throng and finally escaped into the cold air, away from the smells of patchouli and energy drink. We ran quickly to our car, still on a high, ears ringing in the way they do after over-exposure, much like how everything appears green when you come inside from a bright day. As soon as we were home we went directly to bed, and I let the memories of the sounds sink in, smiling a little as I realized it was okay that hippies were silly, because sometimes it's nice just to let go. ----- Check out these good songs by Trevor Hall if you're interested: Te Amo (see above) Lime Tree Other Ways To Zion 31 Flavors Unity ...and a few others. If you're interested, let me know and I'll send you some more.
P.S. If you get the movie reference from the title, kudos to you!
