My sister started her first day of classes at the University of Michigan (the real one) today. As usual, she had lots to say on the matter.
On hygiene: "Guh. I can't get ready because my suitemate is bathing! I wanted to be able to get breakfast. Pooey."
"Go eat and then bathe."
"Hail no! I can't go there with my hair looking like this!"
On cafeterias: "Eat awrone."
On navigating the campus: "Have you ever seen the episode of friends where they're in England and Joey needs to jump in the map?"
"Lol yes."
"That's what I'm about to do."
On meeting new people: "Can't tell if gay or just good style." and then later "Definitely gay." followed by "Messenger bag boy! Where'd you go? I wanna marry you."
On getting to class early: "Cold and alone."
On being in class: "Hot professor alert...he might be gay too."
On getting out of class: "All by myselffff."
My baby sister's all grown up. And I miss her.
Tomorrow I start school too. Here goes nothing.
Love,
Katie
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
I need you to know something
I am terrible at keeping plans. I am a procrastinator (and a forgetful one at that) and I will find whatever else there is to do and do that before doing something I don't want to do. Wait, did that make sense?
Basically, I got distracted and didn't keep up this blog like I promised. Whatever. Sue me.
Anyway, this post will rattle on and border --oh hell , it will probably cross over--on TMI territory. But these are things I need to say. Besides, nobody reads this anyway except maybe Bonnie. Hi Bonnie!
A few months ago I had my annual check-up. I was five months late on doing so. Typical, right? But we're getting off track here. Moving on.
At my annual (late) check-up, I told my doctor that I had let my perscription for my birth control pills expire and was having horrendous, life-altering cramps again. This, my doctor determined, was due to ovarian cysts that would go away once I was back on birth control. So she put me on Seasonique*, which for those of you that don't know, is a birth control pill that keeps your period at bay for longer than usual so that you onle get one every three months. Four a year. Sounds. Awesome.
Um no.
A month or so into taking these pills, everything started to change. I was angry or sad or just...blah. Nothing. Numb. All the time. I was unable to get excited or be happy for anything, although flying into a rage or hysteria was pretty easy for me. I had terrible mood swings and poor Corey had to walk on eggshells around me because I was constantly starting fights.
Then, my stepmom died.
I thought I was sad all the time because of her death, and yes, that was the main cause. But I couldn't function in real life anymore. I would cry for hours and scream and Corey would have to hold me against a wall in our condo so I didn't hurt him or myself. It wasn't me.
People told me it might have been the pills. My mom and Corey were sure of it. But I was adamant. I hadn't had a problem before. They were crazy. I was fine. The end.
Except that I wasn't fine. Every day was worse than the one before it. When I feel normal, every day is a new beginning. But now every day was a new end. Everything was over and I had nothing and nobody cared and the world was a horrible place. It was awful and scary and frustrating and I began to think that there was no way out other than to die. And I thought about it all day every day until one morning after starting a fight with Corey before the sun was even up. I went into the bathroom of our brand new apartment and grabbed a bottle of Target brand Ibuprofin and shoved a handful into my mouth. Before I was even able to chew or swallow or do anything, I was on the bed with Corey on top of me, his hands in my mouth. I choked as he dug his fingers into my throat scooping out red-coated pill after red-coated pill and screaming, "How many did you swallow?" None.
That was the last day I took those pills. And yeah, I do feel better. A lot better. I can laugh again. I don't cry as much. I get excited about things and can make jokes. Corey says he feels like he got me back. Like I came back from the dead.
Well, maybe I did.
Love,
Katie
*According to my Google search skills, depression among Seasonique users is a common occurrence. Funny, it's not on the warning label! Anyway, I'm sure you can do your own research, but here is one of the stories I read that pretty much summed it up. As always, talk to your doctor about drugs and their effects because I have no medical training. At all.
Basically, I got distracted and didn't keep up this blog like I promised. Whatever. Sue me.
Anyway, this post will rattle on and border --oh hell , it will probably cross over--on TMI territory. But these are things I need to say. Besides, nobody reads this anyway except maybe Bonnie. Hi Bonnie!
A few months ago I had my annual check-up. I was five months late on doing so. Typical, right? But we're getting off track here. Moving on.
At my annual (late) check-up, I told my doctor that I had let my perscription for my birth control pills expire and was having horrendous, life-altering cramps again. This, my doctor determined, was due to ovarian cysts that would go away once I was back on birth control. So she put me on Seasonique*, which for those of you that don't know, is a birth control pill that keeps your period at bay for longer than usual so that you onle get one every three months. Four a year. Sounds. Awesome.
Um no.
A month or so into taking these pills, everything started to change. I was angry or sad or just...blah. Nothing. Numb. All the time. I was unable to get excited or be happy for anything, although flying into a rage or hysteria was pretty easy for me. I had terrible mood swings and poor Corey had to walk on eggshells around me because I was constantly starting fights.
Then, my stepmom died.
I thought I was sad all the time because of her death, and yes, that was the main cause. But I couldn't function in real life anymore. I would cry for hours and scream and Corey would have to hold me against a wall in our condo so I didn't hurt him or myself. It wasn't me.
People told me it might have been the pills. My mom and Corey were sure of it. But I was adamant. I hadn't had a problem before. They were crazy. I was fine. The end.
Except that I wasn't fine. Every day was worse than the one before it. When I feel normal, every day is a new beginning. But now every day was a new end. Everything was over and I had nothing and nobody cared and the world was a horrible place. It was awful and scary and frustrating and I began to think that there was no way out other than to die. And I thought about it all day every day until one morning after starting a fight with Corey before the sun was even up. I went into the bathroom of our brand new apartment and grabbed a bottle of Target brand Ibuprofin and shoved a handful into my mouth. Before I was even able to chew or swallow or do anything, I was on the bed with Corey on top of me, his hands in my mouth. I choked as he dug his fingers into my throat scooping out red-coated pill after red-coated pill and screaming, "How many did you swallow?" None.
That was the last day I took those pills. And yeah, I do feel better. A lot better. I can laugh again. I don't cry as much. I get excited about things and can make jokes. Corey says he feels like he got me back. Like I came back from the dead.
Well, maybe I did.
Love,
Katie
*According to my Google search skills, depression among Seasonique users is a common occurrence. Funny, it's not on the warning label! Anyway, I'm sure you can do your own research, but here is one of the stories I read that pretty much summed it up. As always, talk to your doctor about drugs and their effects because I have no medical training. At all.
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Social Network
So I deactivated (much quicker, easier and less permanent—should I ever want it back—than deleting) my Facebook account. Yes, I know. SHOCK! AWE! AMAZEMENT! Someone of the generation of laziness, entitlement and handheld device worship gave up a social networking site! Alert the media! Via Facebook!
But seriously, guys. I don’t even miss it.
I don’t miss everyone knowing my business and secretly stalking me without bothering to actually interact with me.
I don’t miss the copious amount of updates and photos and videos from overzealous parents intent on chronicling their child’s every. breathing. second.
I don’t miss knowing what people are having for dinner tonight.
I don’t miss invites to events and parties that in all honesty, I was never considering attending in the first place and only RSVPed “maybe” to be polite.
I don’t miss worrying if people will find out what I did instead of attending the event/party that I RSVPed “maybe” to.
I don’t miss obnoxious people with low self-esteem that feel the need to express their superiority to everyone via status update. Ex: “OMG! I just got a new sofa for $20 on Ebay and it’s the most amazing sofa in the entire world that retails for $300 billion and is made of Tasmanian squirrel skin that can only be harvested between 2:48 and 3:04 am on February 29th of a leap year so it’s super-awesome and you will never have one and I will and oh, did I mention my boyfriend just proposed with this ugly ring and we’re getting married super-soon and you’ve been engaged for six months with no wedding plans in sight? “
I just don’t miss it.
What I do miss are some of the people that live so far that I never get to see them and can only communicate in these ways. And also sending people Youtube videos (Hey, I never said I gave up on the internet entirely!) and pictures.
And yeah, there are some things that I want to share with people.
I want to tell people about my newfound love for organic, whole, natural foods and green living. And my rekindled love for running and Owl City. Or about the severe, debilitating, suicidal depression I went through. Or the loss of yet another close family member at their own hand.
I just want to talk to you people. But why do I have to sign in blood and give up my privacy and sanity (because dude, Facebook is addictive) to do it?
That’s why the blog is back. Until I get lazy or busy and don’t update it. As I am wont to do.
Either way, here’s hoping you’ll be here with me no matter what happens.
Love,
Katie
But seriously, guys. I don’t even miss it.
I don’t miss everyone knowing my business and secretly stalking me without bothering to actually interact with me.
I don’t miss the copious amount of updates and photos and videos from overzealous parents intent on chronicling their child’s every. breathing. second.
I don’t miss knowing what people are having for dinner tonight.
I don’t miss invites to events and parties that in all honesty, I was never considering attending in the first place and only RSVPed “maybe” to be polite.
I don’t miss worrying if people will find out what I did instead of attending the event/party that I RSVPed “maybe” to.
I don’t miss obnoxious people with low self-esteem that feel the need to express their superiority to everyone via status update. Ex: “OMG! I just got a new sofa for $20 on Ebay and it’s the most amazing sofa in the entire world that retails for $300 billion and is made of Tasmanian squirrel skin that can only be harvested between 2:48 and 3:04 am on February 29th of a leap year so it’s super-awesome and you will never have one and I will and oh, did I mention my boyfriend just proposed with this ugly ring and we’re getting married super-soon and you’ve been engaged for six months with no wedding plans in sight? “
I just don’t miss it.
What I do miss are some of the people that live so far that I never get to see them and can only communicate in these ways. And also sending people Youtube videos (Hey, I never said I gave up on the internet entirely!) and pictures.
And yeah, there are some things that I want to share with people.
I want to tell people about my newfound love for organic, whole, natural foods and green living. And my rekindled love for running and Owl City. Or about the severe, debilitating, suicidal depression I went through. Or the loss of yet another close family member at their own hand.
I just want to talk to you people. But why do I have to sign in blood and give up my privacy and sanity (because dude, Facebook is addictive) to do it?
That’s why the blog is back. Until I get lazy or busy and don’t update it. As I am wont to do.
Either way, here’s hoping you’ll be here with me no matter what happens.
Love,
Katie
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Life's Burning Questions
You could concern yourself with wondering where on Earth I have been for the past bajillion years that is so important and busy and awesome or (depending on whether you're a Glass Half Full or Half Empy kind of person) atrocious that I couldn't post.
Or you could wonder along with me at the following burning questions:
Or you could wonder along with me at the following burning questions:
- Why does the vending machine at work not take nickels, but will give them as change? Where do they come from?!
- Why does one of the people that live in my house (they all deny it) place bottles that look like this upside-down in the washcloth rack so that all of the contents settle in the top and I can't get anything out? Do they not understand gravity?
- Why do people wait until the very last second to get over when a lane is clearly ending? It would save us so much time and road rage.
- Why did that creepy man follow me in from the parking lot this morning whilst detailing to me his theory of time relativity? No, seriously. He said that.
- Why is it that whenever I really want to see a band, something bad happens like a flat tire, or mono, or the only member of the band having kidney stones? Boo!
- Why did I not ask more about this supposed "adjustment period" to these rigid gas permeable contacts before getting them? Ouch.
- How did I accidentally sign myself up for ballroom dancing lessons? Like, seriously, how does one do such a thing?
- Is it wrong to wait until you are on meds for depression before telling your father that you failed out of school and are starting at a community college in two weeks?
- What happens if they don't medicate me and I stay sucky and miserable?
- Who am I going to have to kill if I don't get my refund for Owl City? I am SO not wasting my $40 for pavillion seats to see Maroon 5 play their new album.
- Why does God send all orange striped cats to live at my house?
- Why did I think I could watch Repo! The Genetic Opera and NOT be disturbed/traumatized for the rest of my life?
- Why am I writing this drivel?
Love,
Katie
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Afterthought
By the way, I almost forgot that you slept with my ex-boyfriend.
Good riddance.
Love,
Katie
Good riddance.
Love,
Katie
Thursday, March 18, 2010
I Don't Care
No really, I don't.
Never mind the years of friendship and the last few of watching you fake it.
Never mind letting you cry onto my shoulder in the mornings before high school because your parents told you that you were fat.
Never mind not calling me at the moment you needed me most and favoring other "friends" instead, none of which you are friends with anymore.
Never mind all the times I went with you to buy pregnancy tests because you'd been sleeping with several guys and thought you were pregnant.
Never mind the carefully thought out birthday presents while you gave me used magazines and pop-up books about DOLLS THAT COME TO LIFE!!!! Dolls. That are alive. MOTHERFUCKINGDOLLS! The stuff of my nightmares. You obviously know me well after 10 years, eh?
Never mind my texts that never get answered until hours, sometimes days later.
Never mind that I got up at four in the morning (God doesn't get up that early!) and got on a bus with my crabby boyfriend and sat in front of these idiots for five hours to come and see you and that you couldn't be bothered to meet us at the station.
Never mind that we carried our luggage around with us for two hours in a city we weren't familiar with waiting for you.
Never mind that you couldn't take this one weekend off from seeing your repulsive-cheating-scumbag-asshole boyfriend to see your "best friend" and planned the entire night around him including changing the dinner reservations to 10:15 PM (which is 11:15 PM Michigan time) when we had been up since 4:00 AM (which is 3:00 AM Illinois time) and were too exhausted to go and slept on the futon instead.
Never mind that I comforted you on the L Train because RCSA boyfriend was making you cry.
Never mind you didn't bother making the floor clear enough to walk over in the five weeks that you knew we would be coming. Or that you didn't bother to have water for us to drink or towels out for us to use in the shower.
Never mind that you came home at 2:00 AM with your RCSA boyfriend "whispering" in the bed next to my head while I slept. I threw your cat at him when he ran across my face WITH HIS CLAWS.
Never mind that you couldn't walk us to the station when we left. You said you would be going in that direction, but you wanted to sleep until noon.
Never mind that I spent that night texting you trying to get you to see that you're worth more than that useless scumbag liar and then you didn't talk to me again for another month and a half.
Never mind you've been in town for two days and didn't tell me and I had to find out from your mom's Facebook and now you can't spare one fucking hour to get Starbucks with me, especially since I can't even AFFORD Starbucks right now.
Never mind that I have been the best friend that I could be to you for 10 FUCKING YEARS and you have given me less than nothing in return. Less than nothing.
I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Care. Care if it's old. I don't mind. I don't mind. I don't mind. Mind. I don't have a mind.
Love,
Katie
Never mind the years of friendship and the last few of watching you fake it.
Never mind letting you cry onto my shoulder in the mornings before high school because your parents told you that you were fat.
Never mind not calling me at the moment you needed me most and favoring other "friends" instead, none of which you are friends with anymore.
Never mind all the times I went with you to buy pregnancy tests because you'd been sleeping with several guys and thought you were pregnant.
Never mind the carefully thought out birthday presents while you gave me used magazines and pop-up books about DOLLS THAT COME TO LIFE!!!! Dolls. That are alive. MOTHERFUCKINGDOLLS! The stuff of my nightmares. You obviously know me well after 10 years, eh?
Never mind my texts that never get answered until hours, sometimes days later.
Never mind that I got up at four in the morning (God doesn't get up that early!) and got on a bus with my crabby boyfriend and sat in front of these idiots for five hours to come and see you and that you couldn't be bothered to meet us at the station.
Never mind that we carried our luggage around with us for two hours in a city we weren't familiar with waiting for you.
Never mind that you couldn't take this one weekend off from seeing your repulsive-cheating-scumbag-asshole boyfriend to see your "best friend" and planned the entire night around him including changing the dinner reservations to 10:15 PM (which is 11:15 PM Michigan time) when we had been up since 4:00 AM (which is 3:00 AM Illinois time) and were too exhausted to go and slept on the futon instead.
Never mind that I comforted you on the L Train because RCSA boyfriend was making you cry.
Never mind you didn't bother making the floor clear enough to walk over in the five weeks that you knew we would be coming. Or that you didn't bother to have water for us to drink or towels out for us to use in the shower.
Never mind that you came home at 2:00 AM with your RCSA boyfriend "whispering" in the bed next to my head while I slept. I threw your cat at him when he ran across my face WITH HIS CLAWS.
Never mind that you couldn't walk us to the station when we left. You said you would be going in that direction, but you wanted to sleep until noon.
Never mind that I spent that night texting you trying to get you to see that you're worth more than that useless scumbag liar and then you didn't talk to me again for another month and a half.
Never mind you've been in town for two days and didn't tell me and I had to find out from your mom's Facebook and now you can't spare one fucking hour to get Starbucks with me, especially since I can't even AFFORD Starbucks right now.
Never mind that I have been the best friend that I could be to you for 10 FUCKING YEARS and you have given me less than nothing in return. Less than nothing.
I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Care. Care if it's old. I don't mind. I don't mind. I don't mind. Mind. I don't have a mind.
Love,
Katie
Thursday, March 11, 2010
A Day In The Life
5:30 AM - Alarm goes off. Hit snooze until 6:30.
6:30 AM - Grudgingly roll out of bed and curse yourself for not getting up sooner. Grab towels and shuffle towards the bathroom for a shower.
6:31 AM - Shuffle back to bedroom. Mom is in shower. Check email until she gets out.
6:40 AM - Shuffle back to bathroom and take a shower. Refrain from using face scrub because lady at Sally Beauty Supply said to only use it at night. Drop everything in the shower at least once. Swear.
6:47 AM - Towel off and apply various creams/pomades to wet hair and wrap towel around head. Brush teeth and get mad every time the towel falls off due to the gravity of leaning over a sink.
6:50 AM - Start getting dressed and end up hating the outfit laid out the night before. Change everything.
7:00 AM - Apply makeup and argue with sister trying to get in the bathroom. Call her a Nazi. Speak German to her.
7:03 AM - Leave house in flip flops and start car. Realize there's no gas because it was too cold last night after class to stop at a gas station. Swear. Drive to gas station and get gas as well as breakfast. Be classy.
7:23 AM - Arrive at work. Spend five minutes looking for a parking space. Spend the next 10 minutes walking the half mile from the parking space to the building. No exaggeration.
7:40 AM - Walk into office la te. Curse parking lot. Wonder when parking structure will be done.
Work. Change Facebook status periodically. Tweet when something amusing happens or when boredom strikes.
3:30 PM - Wander back to car parked in BFE.
3:46 PM - Arrive at car. Get in and wait in line for 10 minutes to get out of the gate. Stop at home to change and eat dinner.
4:42 PM - Leave for school. Worry about being late the entire way there. Speed.
5:14 PM - Arrive at school an hour early. Go to bathroom. Waste time. Go to class and sit in the dark Facebooking on netbook until someone turns on the light. Facebook in the light until class.
6:15 PM - Professor arrives five minutes late. Class starts. Sit through class. Fear the TA and her crazy eyes. Imagine her turning the class to stone. Type everything professor says verbatim. Get midterm back. Be disappointed in your B-.
9:00 PM - Leave class. Book it to the car because the parking lot is dark and full of terrible drivers. Speed home.
9:26 PM - Arrive home. Mom says boyfriend called. Talked to him for several minutes about enema he had to give autistic person in group home he works in. Make fun of bleach blonde goatee thing brother is attempting to grow. Tell him it makes him look like Hulk Hogan.
Tell orange fluffy cat that bears resemblance to Wilford Brimley at the time that he "don't know 'bout mah Diabeetus."
Laugh at own joke. Make and eat corned beef sandwich in front of "vegetarian" sister. Moan at deliciousness as she ogles and talks about how good it looks. Laugh as she gives herself a pep talk: "They're so mean to the chickens! You've done this for two weeks, Kelly. If you do this, you can do anything!" Laugh when brother tells her that they throw the chickens because it tenderizes them and makes them delicious and then leaves to get McNuggets. Page phone and realize mom is sitting on it. Call boyfriend. Wander upstairs to bed.
10:26 PM - Finally get off phone because boyfriend has to change adult diapers before getting off work. Stay up until he calls back.
10:27 PM - Fall asleep.
10:55 PM - Wake up because phone is ringing under pillow. Talk groggily for three minutes. Hang up and fall asleep. Have nightmare about a doll.
Love,
Katie
6:30 AM - Grudgingly roll out of bed and curse yourself for not getting up sooner. Grab towels and shuffle towards the bathroom for a shower.
6:31 AM - Shuffle back to bedroom. Mom is in shower. Check email until she gets out.
6:40 AM - Shuffle back to bathroom and take a shower. Refrain from using face scrub because lady at Sally Beauty Supply said to only use it at night. Drop everything in the shower at least once. Swear.
6:47 AM - Towel off and apply various creams/pomades to wet hair and wrap towel around head. Brush teeth and get mad every time the towel falls off due to the gravity of leaning over a sink.
6:50 AM - Start getting dressed and end up hating the outfit laid out the night before. Change everything.
7:00 AM - Apply makeup and argue with sister trying to get in the bathroom. Call her a Nazi. Speak German to her.
7:03 AM - Leave house in flip flops and start car. Realize there's no gas because it was too cold last night after class to stop at a gas station. Swear. Drive to gas station and get gas as well as breakfast. Be classy.
7:23 AM - Arrive at work. Spend five minutes looking for a parking space. Spend the next 10 minutes walking the half mile from the parking space to the building. No exaggeration.
7:40 AM - Walk into office la te. Curse parking lot. Wonder when parking structure will be done.
Work. Change Facebook status periodically. Tweet when something amusing happens or when boredom strikes.
3:30 PM - Wander back to car parked in BFE.
3:46 PM - Arrive at car. Get in and wait in line for 10 minutes to get out of the gate. Stop at home to change and eat dinner.
4:42 PM - Leave for school. Worry about being late the entire way there. Speed.
5:14 PM - Arrive at school an hour early. Go to bathroom. Waste time. Go to class and sit in the dark Facebooking on netbook until someone turns on the light. Facebook in the light until class.
6:15 PM - Professor arrives five minutes late. Class starts. Sit through class. Fear the TA and her crazy eyes. Imagine her turning the class to stone. Type everything professor says verbatim. Get midterm back. Be disappointed in your B-.
9:00 PM - Leave class. Book it to the car because the parking lot is dark and full of terrible drivers. Speed home.
9:26 PM - Arrive home. Mom says boyfriend called. Talked to him for several minutes about enema he had to give autistic person in group home he works in. Make fun of bleach blonde goatee thing brother is attempting to grow. Tell him it makes him look like Hulk Hogan.
Tell orange fluffy cat that bears resemblance to Wilford Brimley at the time that he "don't know 'bout mah Diabeetus."
Laugh at own joke. Make and eat corned beef sandwich in front of "vegetarian" sister. Moan at deliciousness as she ogles and talks about how good it looks. Laugh as she gives herself a pep talk: "They're so mean to the chickens! You've done this for two weeks, Kelly. If you do this, you can do anything!" Laugh when brother tells her that they throw the chickens because it tenderizes them and makes them delicious and then leaves to get McNuggets. Page phone and realize mom is sitting on it. Call boyfriend. Wander upstairs to bed.10:26 PM - Finally get off phone because boyfriend has to change adult diapers before getting off work. Stay up until he calls back.
10:27 PM - Fall asleep.
10:55 PM - Wake up because phone is ringing under pillow. Talk groggily for three minutes. Hang up and fall asleep. Have nightmare about a doll.
Love,
Katie
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