A Voice in My Head

I was sitting in English yesterday and feeling as if I was in a fog. I could see my teacher’s mouth moving, but all I heard was “wah wah waaaah wah wah.” I could not focus. That morning I had given blood, and I think that had something to do with it. In fact, I think giving blood had a lot to do with everything that’s gone wrong the past 36 hours. Here begins my saga.

I arrived to give blood at approximately 9:52 am. I was very excited. I filled out the paper work quickly enough, so before I knew it, I found myself with a needle sticking out of my right arm and my life source quickly flowing out of me. It went much faster than last time. In fact it was downright easy…too easy. I felt a little dizzy afterwards, but besides that I was fit as a fiddle. I finished just in time to make it to Old Testament Archeology. With high spirits, I entered that class.

I was proudly sporting my “Be Nice I Gave Blood Today” sticker and feeling pretty good. It wasn’t until midway through the class things started to go awry. Exhaustion overwhelmed me. My will to fight it was waning thin. Just when I was reaching for toothpicks to keep my eyes open, the teacher called for a break. I made a beeline for the water fountain. By the time I came back to class, I had caught my second wind. The next hour passed and I went on to lunch. Lunch passed, and I went back to my dorm to finish a paper before English.

Three o’clock rolled around, and I forced myself to leave my room. The fog I had felt earlier was gathering once more. As I stumbled to class, I caught myself humming some Emo tunes, and feeling unwell. I got there early and put my head down. The next two hours slouched by. All I can remember from the class is “wah wah waaaah wah wah” Well that’s not entirely true. I remember being overcome by a fit of inspiration.

I’m not even sure if you could call it inspiration. It’s more like there was a voice in my head, and I began writing down what it was thinking. This is what I wrote:

“Slowly going mad. There’s this drip.drip.drip.dripping. Or is it a tick.tick.tick.ticking? Maybe it’s a mix: drip.drip.tick.dripping. It’s a rhythm. Whether it’s real or imagined, I don’t know. I’m slowly going mad. My doctor tells me I have 6 weeks of sanity left. The beat in my head gets louder each day; constant pounding invades every thought. It’s breaking me like Chinese water torture, and it’s all in my head. drip.tick. I’m going mad. drip.tick.insanity. I barely notice the drool on my face anymore. It dimly registers that I haven’t bathed in five days. My flashes of coherency are becoming less frequent. When they do come, it’s worse than the dripping. When I’m sane, I’m overwhelmed with despair. Depression sweeps over me so that I long to forget myself in my insanity once more. When I’m sane I long for my delusions. Drip.drip.ticking.drip. It’s coming back again…”

Well that was the story in my head. It was a guy talking, or should I say narrating? I don’t know how weird this sounds, but sometimes, I just have to start writing exactly what’s in my head. It’s as if stuff is floating around in there that doesn’t belong, and it’s only escape is through my pen. I think Jamie could relate. It’s a weird feeling.

Anyway, that happened in English class. After that, I can’t remember what I did. I just remember it was a long night. A very long night. When I finally did make it to bed, my mind was begging for sleep, but my body felt differently. My head was a haze, but my legs were twitchy. I felt like jumping up and down, but my head knew I couldn’t physically do that right now. All I could do was shake. It was awful. After what felt like hours I fell asleep. Waking up wasn’t that difficult, but ten minutes later the fog was coming back. I fought it off and won for the next three hours. In chapel, the shaking returned. My poor chapel buddy had to endure my knee rapidly bobbing up and down for the next hour. The rest of my day continued much as yesterday, but seemed to be getting worse. By four o’clock I had dissolved into tears. After calling mom, I went to the infirmary, knowing full well that, physically, I was fine. Sure enough everything checked out. I was simply exhausted and stressed.

Typing this, I feel much better. I’m still not out of the fog, but it isn’t scaring me as much. Oh, I almost forgot to mention what happened in Greek class today. I missed my chair as I was going to sit down. That’s right: I missed the chair completely and fell on my rear. At least I made everyone else feel good about themselves.

Vampires and Blood Donations

What should I write about…I’m listening to Blink 182’s “Going Away to College” and feeling angsty. No, no angsty is not the right word. I’m feeling stereotypical, and I’m loving it. There is nothing new under the sun anyway, right? I might as well indulge myself and be a college student. Ahhhhh. I’m enjoying the moment.

Now I’m sick of it. I’m switching to Mika’s “Grace Kelly.”

...

Do I attract you?
Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?
Am I too dirty?
Am I too flirty?
Do I like what you like?

I could be wholesome
I could be loathsome
I guess I'm a little bit shy
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me without making me try?

I try to be like Grace Kelly
But all her looks were too sad
So I try a little Freddie
I've gone identity mad!

...

That’s not cutting it for me either. I can’t make up my mind. That means silence is probably the best option, but before I try that option, I’m going to listen to “Dracula,” composed by Philip Glass, who, in my opinion, is one of the best composers of the 20th century.
...
Dracula is turning out much better. It’s all piano work, and excellently composed. I love it because it has enough interest, but it’s not distracting: a perfect combination.

Speaking of Dracula, I’m donating blood tomorrow. YAY! I’m being serious when I say I can’t wait. I like giving blood. I think it’s sort of fun. The whole idea is just so clever. What I mean is taht I don’t need all my blood, and I can easily give it away to help others.

The nurses are also nice for the most part, but they tend to fuss over me. Being fair skinned, I get even paler when I lose a pint of blood (no surprise there). Anyway, I must look white as a ghost when I’m giving blood because the nurses constantly ask me if I’m okay. We’ll see what happens tomorrow. Maybe I’ll faint. That’s fun to do too, and it makes for good stories. Well, I’m tired, and need to go to bed. I’ll try to post tomorrow if there is an exciting story to follow up my blood donation.

Greek Class

Here's a pic of my Greek 101 class. It is probably my favorite class. My professor is the one in the middle. The stories he tells are priceless.

Why I Love Eggs

I hope this brightens your day like it does mine: http://www.iloveegg.co.kr/egg_english.htm

Nate

Hey Nate, I hope you read this. I can't get on your blog, and since I can't comment either I figured I would post to let you know. Will you invite me please?? :)

My Heart Sinks

I rejoiced too soon. While I was able to post a comment on Mom's blog, I failed at Daniel's blog. oh pooh. and I had thought my problem was solved.

Comments

It worked!!!!! I can publish comments now. yay! I don't know what was going wrong, but apparently my computer decided it liked Blogger and will allow me to comment now. Finally y'all will know I'm really reading your blogs.

Getting Twitchy

Time is moving faster than I am. I'm having trouble keeping up, and I can hardly believe it's already Spetember 9th. By the time I'm done blogging it will most likely be September 10th. why? why? In someways time's ability to fly by is nice, but in other ways it's awful. Right now I'm just wishing it would slow down a touch. I've got this sinking feeling that college is going to be over before I know it. That's an awful thing to say when I'm not even been in school for a full week yet. It's true: this week will be my first full week. The way scheduling worked out with labor day and orientation, our first week was only three days long, our second week was four days long, and now this week will be the full five days long. What a nice way to ease into a schedule. It's been great, but like I said before, it's going by far too quickly. I didn't realize it had been 6 (almost 7) days since my last post. There I was sitting at my computer, feeling a bit smug, about how successful my blogging commitment has gone, and then I see the date of my last entry. My cloud nine vanished and I was brought face to face with the cold, hard reality that time is moving faster than I am. OH cruel, cruel world. You can tell I'm running on little sleep. I guess staying up till three in the morning and getting up at eight isn't the best idea. Oh well, it just means more coffee for me tomorrow :) I've been so good about staving off addiction that I think I can give in just a little...now I'm rambling. I might even skip proofreading this post and see what happens. I always amaze myself with how off my speeling is. haha. I honestly didn't mean to mistype that. I guess it's just further proof that I can't spell. I think I can live with that, however. I keep T.A.s on their toes. I know they love those red pens of theirs.

Well I'm out of steam. I've rambled long enough, and I'm frightened to read over what I've written, so please enjoy my grammatically incorrect entry. I've got to get some sleep. I feel a twitch coming on...right under my eye...Dad knows what I'm talking about.

Side Note

I want to let y'all know, that I can't post comments on any one's blogs. I've tried unsuccessfully several times on several different occasions, and it just won't work. Argh. (face of frustration). I do read them, however, so keep posting.

"Well, in China..."

I’m sitting outside, and the weather is just right; it’s warm, but there is a breeze. The sun is intense, but the shade is refreshing. I carry my parasol around everywhere. People might not know my name but they definitely know the girl who carries a “sunbrella.” It’s made for some interesting conversations.

This past Sunday I wore a black and white outfit to church, but I felt I needed some color, so chose my pastel blue parasol with paintings of cherry blossoms and birds. As I made my way back to the dorm, I was by myself, but I soon heard footsteps approaching from behind. Something about the way the way the feet hit the concrete with each step made me think they wanted to talk with me. I continued at my pace, and for half a minute they followed at an awkward seven paces back. Soon enough, however, I heard them speed up, and I knew my solitude was soon to be broken. “You know, you’ve been getting a lot of funny stares.” I turned to see who my new friend was. It was a guy from Honeyrock who had become rather infamous for his rudeness, so I paused to think of a response, “Well, I’d be a bit surprised if I wasn’t getting a lot of funny stares.”

Looking at my Chinese-inspired parasol, he went on to ask if I had been to china. “No,” I reply, “I wish I could say I have, but I got this in Disneyworld.” He surprises me with his next statement, “You know how in America how everyone tries to get tanner? Well, in China, everyone seeks pale skin.” It turns out he lived in China for four years. Holding up his arm he says, “I’m not really that pale, but I got followed all the time.” He pauses and then asks, “What color are your eyes?”

I look at him, “Blue.”

“Yeah, they would go crazy over you, but you would have to be careful. They might also call you a blue-eyed devil.” I didn’t really know how to respond at that point. Thank you just didn’t seem quite right. At Honeyrock, he came off as conceited, and he had never spoken two words to me. The fact that we were now have a conversation was unnerving. We walked a bit farther and then he asked, “How many parasols do you have?”

“About eight.”

His eyes got big.

“I just don’t like the smell of sunscreen that much, and parasols are much easier.”

This is just one of several converstions my parasols have inspired. It's true that I get a lot of funny stares, but overall, people's reactions have been positive. At worst they think I'm eccentric, and I enjoy that. As Edith Sitwell said, "Eccentricity is not, as dull people would have us believe, a form of madness. It is often a kind of innocent pride, and the man of genius and the aristocrat are frequently regarded as eccentrics because genius and aristocrat are entirely unafraid of and uninfluenced by the opinions and vagaries of the crowd."

coffee addiction

I find myself, once again, posting on my blog...miracles never cease. At this rate I might actually develop a habit. Speaking of habits or addictions, I've done very well with not getting too addicted to coffee. At least that's what I tell myself. It helps that the cafeteria serves this awful muck. I really don't know how to describe what they brew. I think it's Starbucks in origin. Without coffee at the cafeteria that leaves me to brewing my own pots. It's quite an enjoyable habit. I only wish I could use real creamer. Powdered doesn't quite cut it. It's not that I have to have creamer, but I do enjoy a little because it cuts the acidity.

My resolution to stave off my coffee drinking came about because of an experience at Honeyrock. Because I had been hiking in the woods for two weeks, I had not been able to have coffee. When I got back to the main camp, I was so overjoyed at the prospect of it that I found myself drinking 2 cups morning, noon, and night. As enjoyable as that was, I soon realized the circles under my eyes were not because of lack of sleep but because of lack of restful sleep.

It's true that coffee doesn't keep you up, but it also doesn't let your brain shut off when it is asleep. The result: bags under my eyes that would make Frankenstein look well rested. With this rude awakening, came a hard choice. I loved my coffee, but alas, I would have to cut back. Six cups was simply too much for my body to handle. My new resolution was this: drink two cups each morning, and decaffeinated tea on all other occasions.

It has become a very pleasant routine. My new teas are excellent, and I'm looking forwad to exploring new brands and new brewing techniques. As one door closes another opens, right?