I Know It's 75 and I'm Wearing a Scarf

WHY CAN'T WE HAVE TRAINS?  I wish public transportation was more accessible and convenient where I find myself.  I honestly love the half hour trip my class takes downtown every Monday.  I don't sit next to anyone and sometimes if I'm feeling super introverted I'll even put my headphones in.  It's one of the best times of my day and I'm saying that sarcasm-free.  I'm also not saying my life is that boring when I find my favorite part is just sitting there being moved from one place to the next.  It's a great time to be forced to space out.  I can't read in a vehicle or my head feels funny so I just stare out the window and look at people and cars and think about life.  Something productive is indeed being done (I'm going to a new place) and I don't have to do absolutely anything.  Where as if I was driving myself I have to pay attention to what I'm doing.  Ugh.  If I want to eat something I have to be careful that I'll be able to maintain a proper grasp on the steering wheel, which is somewhat hindering to my food choices.  If I have a drink in my drink holder I have to be conscious not to turn too fast or cut someone off too quickly for fear of my drink becoming empty.  And it's different when I'm a passenger in a normal car because I feel somewhat obliged to pay attention to other people in the car, or be a super annoying backseat driver.  "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY USING CRUISE CONTROL IN THE RAIN?  WHY DIDNT YOU LET THAT CAR GO?  SINCE WHEN DOES A YELLOW LIGHT MEAN SLOW DOWN?"

 It's a shame that the RTA's in Cleveland are so dirty and the ambience is just not very nice in general.  I could be the only person on one of those rapids and I still feel unsafe and quite vulnerable.  I've asked my dad countless times if he would buy me pepper spray or mace to carry with me but he's convinced I'd pull it out and use it far too easily.  Well, father, sometimes you say things to me that really deserve a nice little spray to the face.  No in all honesty I think it's one of those things I would carry just to make myself feel better.  I'm sure I'd forget I was even carrying it if there was an incident that called for a good macing.

Over summer we kept a baseball bat behind the counter at the coffee shop and I don't think that would have done me any good.  By the time it takes for me to lift a real bat and get in the proper stance to swing the perpetrator would have had time to get all the money and probably grab the bat itself out of my hands.  Yes, I'm pretty sure I would just run away fast or try to scratch his eyeballs out like my Psych 101 professor told the girls to do if we were ever being attacked.  Apparently gauging eye balls out is much easier than we think, it's all a matter of knowing where to push on the face.  You could probably Google it or message me for the proper technique.  Or attack me and find out the hard way.

The weather today was beautiful and warm.  I feel bad for the girls who had a really intense hickey and tried to cover it up with a big wool scarf and ended up having hot flashes from the scarf around 2pm.
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A  

I Love You, So Here's MRSA

A lot has happened in regards to health since the last time I blogged.  Don't panic, we'll all be ok.  Connor apparently got sore on his upper thigh, very similar to what I had over summer: an immense spider bite that got infected.  When he told me this I was actually kind of pumped (not in a mean way, it's not like he was in a lot of pain) because I was like, "OMG MAYBE WE'LL HAVE MATCHING SCARS SOUL MATES FOR LIFEEEE".  He went to the doctor, got antibiotics and got it tested to make sure it isn't anything serious.  Ummm.  A week and a half later, kind of serious.  Connor had MRSA.  Cool.  And of course it happened on the same weekend he was coming to visit me.  I have to disinfect my apartment in totality now.  Nah, it wasn't that bad and he was cautious with keeping everything covered, plus he's on really strong antibiotics.  I'm not worried.  I shouldn't worry.

My mom called me this morning and was telling me a story about our neighbors, and the daughter of the family had what they believed to be a spider bite that got infected like mine over summer...They were calling my mom to compare the daughter's issues with mine.  These neighbors don't even live on our street.  They live a few blocks over.  We're not that close them at all.  I'm still very confused on why they know about the personal health issues of my life.  Thanks, mom.  So they took the girl to the doctor, it was MRSA.  She had the same symptoms with the infection that I had; swelling, it was hard to the touch, red, pussy.  Ew.  This doctor said it was definitely not an infected spider bite because if it was the girl would have been lethargic, perhaps vomiting, and diarrhea. When I had my "spider bite" I simply went to Urgacare and got some pills to make it go away.  No tests were taken.  No further follow up questions.  They didn't even ask me if I was shittin' my pants.  Sidenote: my bowels were fine during that period.  Thus, my mom thinks it's a good chance that I had MRSA now too and we just didn't really know.  Typically one needs pretty strong antibiotics to fight off this infection but who knows.  I must have a super human like immune system to defeat it.

I did not believe Connor when he initially proposed the idea of him having MRSA last week, I accused him of going overboard with his hypochondria.  I already carried this guilt on my shoulder this weekend, but now I am clearly forced to carry the guilt of POSSIBLY BEING THE ONE THAT INFECTED HIM WITH THIS SHIT.  This is all hypothetical, but also quite logical in my head.  It's not like I let just anyone grind up against my upper thigh, which is where my possible infection was located.

This situation is all very ironic since my life seems to currently be a big case of finding the cause and determinants of an infection.  I have a huge test in epidemiology tomorrow which I have been studying for but do not feel prepared at all.  Epidemiology is the study of the distribution and determinants of a health related state or behavior in a specified population...  Why does the population that I'm dealing with have to be present in places like my bedroom.  And seriously, how often is that said when not referring to like, an STD.  *so thankful*

Best Text I Received Today:  From Genna at 1:07 pm : "I'm at a farm." 

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A

But My Flannel is a Button Up!

One thing I do not enjoy doing is shopping for things I do not want to spend money on but I need to purchase.  Examples include gasoline, medicine, food, BUSINESS CASUAL CLOTHES.  I decided to wait until 25 minutes before I was scheduled to be somewhere to get dressed and prepared to conduct interviews, which we were told to arrive in business casual attire in.  Bizz cazshhh attire?  What does that even mean?  I might own one pair of black pants that aren't jeans left over from working at the Bel-Aire Hotel, and I don't even have them at school with me.  I'm a sociology major, come on.  I consider dressing up oxfords and tights with a leather jacket pulling it all together for the win.  I don't think that's what my advisors consider dressing up.  So I'm rummaging through my closet and dressor drawers semi-freaking out when I realize the only collared shirts I own are flannel and the only acceptable shoes are, indeed, my oxfords.  I somehow managed to look "nice casual" with a sweater, tights, and a skirt.  I don't think it qualified as business-y and it was probably a disgraceful look to any corporate individual but like I said, I study sociology.  When/if the time comes when I have to work at the hands of a corporate individual I will start shopping at Express. 

Since I was in a rush to meet for the interviews on time I did not think about properly managing my time.  I didn't bring any homework with me, and by the time we got back to campus it was a little after 7pm.  I work 8-10pm tonight at the library and didn't feel like going ALL the way back to my apartment, on the FOURTH floor, and retreiving work to do before and during my shift.  So I just spent the last half hour slowly walking around the library looking for enough change for a vending machine purchase.  I'm kidding, I'm not that poor.  I'm just weird enough to walk around not looking for anything.  I limited myself to the basement though, the other floors were a little too crowded.  Alas, here I am counting down the minutes until my shift, finishing my purchase of bagged trail mix for 90 cents.  Rip off.  Could have made my own batch of this crap for much cheaper.  And how am I supposed to get the little sunflower seeds out of this bag anyways?  It's one of those real thin, long packages.  I already tried dumping it into my hand and more ended up on the floor.  I actually left one of the raisins that fell on the floor downstairs because I thought it looked just like mouse poo and we used to have a mouse infestation problem at the library so I thought it'd be funny. 

Ugh.  It's not that funny at all.  I'm going to pick it up during my shift because I feel guilty. 

Best Text I Received Today: From Mom at 7:40pm:  "Fyi do ur underwear load last in the washer...one pair contains about 100,000 fecal bacteria.  this could transfer to other loads. ewwww."

You can go ahead and add that to your list of things there are no need to know about in life.
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A  

Cat>Children and Hair Dye>Mud

One of my favorite books that I was introduced to my freshman year of college is Looking for Alaska.  The book is definitely a tear jerker, but one of the lines that made me emotional most likely is one that most readers just probably giggle at a little and then carry on.  I can't remember exactly who the quote is referring to, but I would guess it's the "superficial" girls who spend too much time worrying about their hair.  Meh.

"They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting."

I read this and distinctly remember having to pause and contemplate the statement.  Yes, I realize it's a fictional book, but it hit me hard.  I love  my hair.  Obviously, I have days when I question why I don't shave my head because A) it would save me so much more time and B) it would save me money.  And then there's those evenings when you're getting ready and aiming for one hair style and you honestly believe your hair is working against you just to increase frustration and make you burn yourself with the straightener so everyone thinks you got a massive hickey.  This is when I start to curse my split ends for frizzing up or those kinks that suddenly seem permanent.
Cue Mom's infamous quote, "You should be happy you have hair.  Some people don't."  Irrelevant, Mother.  I never said I wasn't happy having hair.  I'm just unhappy with the hair I have in this moment.  Besides, she literally uses that quote for anything I complain about.

Me:  "Why is Vincent (our cat that mom loves over all of her children combined) biting my toes?  I think they're bleeding now."
Mom:  "You should be happy he even comes home to us when we let him outside during the day." 

Seriously?

He comes home to us because you feed him and let him sleep in your king size bed.  And if we don't let him in he does this at our kitchen window.  Take your pick.

Master Vincent letting his slaves know he's ready to come inside.

Back to the hair thang, I have been dying my hair and chopping it up in different ways since middle school.  Highlights, black hair, platinum blonde, strawberry blonde, light brown, dark brown, blue streaks, and bleach streaks.  I get bored.  And when my life feels like I have no control over it for longer than a few days this is when I do something extreme.  It's been a while since I've done anything to my hair besides trims and I'm finally seeing a good chunk of my natural color.  Poop brown.  No it's not that bad, probably more like a bright, late spring, muddy after a big rainfall color.   I mentioned to my mom a couple weeks ago that I'm going to go darker for winter.  She was all like NO GROW OUT YOUR NATURAL COLOR UNTIL YOU GRADUATE I'LL GIVE YOU 50 BUCKS IF YOU DO IT.  Because these kind of offers I come across everyday?!  Deal.  I will do most things for some money.  If anyone wants to offer $50+ to do something different to my hair, I'm open for discussion.  I'm currently in the stage where the first third of my hair is muddy bright brown and the rest of my hair is a mix of the past years.  So I'm currently spending my days presenting my mood and style via the hair I'm portraying.  That definitely made it sound like I want people to look at my hair and judge it every time I see it.  But let's get real, I think I actually style my hair 2-3 times a week.  So you can judge me daily if you'd like, but you will assume I'm homeless and poor and don't own shampoo. *gross*.  Anyways, If I'm accenting the left over bleach streak shades you know shit is getting real insane in my personal life.  If my bangs are down properly the whole day it means I got really lucky when I woke up that morning.  No, I didn't get laid, the bangs just laid(layed?) well.

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