The Back to School Blues (and Grey)

I am happy to be back at school where I am able to establish a routine-- go to class, do homework, spend time with friends. But there is something about being back that is stifiling. During the summer there is ample time to reflect on life. In a lack of routine there is opportunity to try new things and discover new passions and to get to know new people.
At school, there is the same opportunity to meet people, it is just that between the stress of your Orgo homework and their English paper people are less into spending the time it takes to get to know one another. This leads to something that I have labeled "starved-soul syndrom" which occurs when too many things are accomplished in a small time period that is devoid of fun. (Fun we will define as anything that one chooses to do completely of their own desire.) The most detrimental symptom of starved-soul syndrom is of course severe procrastination which only leads to less time for fun activities and thus a more severe case of starved-soul.
If only there was a way to manage time such that there was always enough of it left over to be unmanaged. Sometimes I feel so exhausted by my efforts to organize the time I do have that I throw my newly organized day out the window (sometimes it is less out the window and more into a collapsing building). It seems that I struggle with the idea that sometimes life is less than easy or fun all the time. Maybe wanting the world to be always filled with fun and never responsibility or obligation is childish and immature, idealic and naive... but I don't think so.

How My Ankle Turned Purple!

So last Friday, I went for a run out by the lake.
And I am on my way.
Left--Right --Left--Right--,
and then my ankle gave out.
In a split second, I found myself on the ground with blood coming from my left hand and right knee. I wondered if I had broken my ankle.
I freaked out.
For a second...
Then I told myself to take a deep breath, and I tried to get up because I was alone, except for my oblivious dog. Also, I had stupidly opted to venture out without my cell phone.
So I got up, and discovered I could walk (sorta).
At this point, I figured I could count on an adrenaline rush of some kind to numb the pain and get me to a phone; however,
As I am hobbling along, I quickly become out of breath...
Finally I see a woman and from a distance ask her if she has a phone...
Of course the answer is No. And she keeps her distance like I have the plague; she doesn't even show an ounce of concern.
I was very obviously bleeding, out of breath, and my ankle left ankle had swelled to twice the circumference of my right. Come On Lady!!!
But I did have my dog... maybe she was afraid.
By this point, I was in an area with houses, and I was able to find a woman getting into her car. Though she told me she was scared of my dog, she brought me a phone and water. I proceeded to call my Dad, and then lied down on the woman's lawn.
Being the premed that I am, I assessed my current state.
I felt as though I had asthma for some reason, and my pulse was slow and hard. I seemed to be in shock, and it sucked.
Although this experience was scary, my Dad did eventually come to my aide and I did immediately take 6 aspirin when I got home.
Now my ankle is purple, and my knee is in shambles.
Luckily, it turns out I have only moderately sprained my ankle.
What I find most interesting about the experience, is in all the times I have been out with my dog, no one has ever acted or said they were afraid of him. And then all of a sudden everyone I cross upon has a severe canine phobia!
I know this is not that website, but, F*** MY LIFE!!!

At first I was afraid I was petrified...
I will survive, I will survive.
Hey! Hey!

My vicious dog:

What is diabetes?

I have juvenile diabetes, otherwise known as type 1 diabetes. I was diagnosed in 5th grade, when I was eleven. People who find out how old I was when I was diagnosed usually wonder what it was like getting such a disease at that age. At present, I would tell you it sucked. Fortunately, at the time I don't think I realized this fact, and so I was able to cope with my diagnoses as if it was a kind of exciting-and-new-especially-extra extracurricular activity. It had taken time for me to realize how my diagnoses has effected my life.
I also feel like many people want to ask what type 1 diabetes is, or how it is different from type 2 diabetes... so here are my answers for these questions as well.
-Because I have type 1 diabetes, it means that my body's immune system decided (for reasons unknown) to attack and kill all of my insulin producing cells in my pancreas. As a result, my body no longer creates any insulin on its own. This puts me at a dis-ease because without insulin, all the carbohydrates I eat that enter my bloodstream as sugar have no way of leaving my blood stream to feed all the cells in my body that need sugar for food. Essentially, without insulin, I can eat all I want and my body will still starve to death anyways (insert sad face here).
To solve the problems established (not wanting to starve and needing insulin), I, and all type 1 diabetics, must take multiple daily injections of insulin.
Many type 1's such as myself have chosen to wear an insulin pump, which takes the place of multiple injections and is kind of like an external pancreas that is programmed manually. It as about the size of an mp3 player. It looks like this:
-I will admit I know less about type 2 diabetes, however, here is what I think I know. Type 2 occurs when a person's body malfunctions in one or both of two possible ways:
1)Their body is resistant to its own insulin (i.e. their pancreas makes insulin, but their body cannot use it efficiently), or
2)Their body does not or is unable to make enough insulin to account for the amount of insulin their body needs.
Usually type 2 diabetes is treatable with diet and exercise, although sometimes treatment requires oral drugs. Rarely does treatment of type 2 diabetes require insulin injections.

(ummm... I am not a doctor or medical professional of any kind (yet!) so please do not take my information too seriously... :-) )

More diabetes stuff later...

No, I'm Not Being Serious

A side note on my roomie...
She is really not that bad. She did after all teach me numerous ways to chug beer, and how to effectively "puff" a cigar. And there was the time I schooled her at Beer Pong. These are clearly very valuable life skills that everyone should learn, but many do not. In fact, institutions of higher learning should offer symposiums on "The Methods of Drinking a Beer" and "Cigars: More Than Fog for the Brain." We all know a greater number of people would sign up to take these classes than classes like "Greek and Roman Civilizations." If American's are going to be known for our less-than-excellent educations, we might as well embrace our culture and make "Partying as a Life Skill" a major at all respected Universities in the States. If we cannot be the best in science or w/e, no big. Let the rest of the world solve its own problems, while we all become professional college students, drinking away our inhibitions and partying away our dignity. I motion to make Beer Pong our new national sport.

My First Blog: My Roomie may be from somewhere like hell...

I often have random moments of impulsivity and this blog is a result of one of those moments. I also make-up words sometimes. I like to think of myself as kin to Ray Bradbury who uses nouns as verbs and adverbs as other parts of speech that they are not meant to be used as. I have not written my first sci-fi novel yet, but it could happen. At the moment, I am unsure about what I want to do with this blog that I have now created. Probably no one will read it. And probably I will soon forget I even have a blog or lose interest and then I will cease to write anymore. But, as long as I am here...

My roomate:
This morning I woke up to her on the phone with her sister. Apparently Facebook somehow friended all of her family, giving them glorious access to all her shit-faced photos. And, apparently Jacqueen was not happy about this. This sort of embarrassing moment is a common occurance for her. I used to feel sorry for her, but, sadly, now I revel during her dark days.
Another night I woke up to the sounds of Jacqueen not so alone in her bed-- I was disgusted! I realize that I am 19, and sex is a part of college, and I should grow up, and yadah yadah... but my purity score is higher than average, and even if it wasn't I am pretty sure I would still be wiered out. At least have the balls to wake me up and tell me to get the fuck out before you go at it in the bed across from me! Of all moments in my life, this one was just awkward... F**K My Life!!!
I have now been sexiled a total of 3 times in the last month...

Fortunately, I only have one more week of coexistence with Jacqueen.

Dear Roomie,
You suck. I never want to live with another girl again. Pick up your shit, you live like a pig. And by-the-way, I heard your Baker boy was banging a girl at Lovett last Saturday when you couldn't find him... :-)