So it's 0-dark-thirty when I leave my apartment Tuesday morning (5:30 am) for the airport. One of my very kind friends has offered to give me a ride because "she'll be up all night studying anyway." I don't comprehend. No matter how unprepared I am for a test/paper/class/whatever, I stop working at 1 am. Sleep is very important to me. I've never pulled an all-nighter and never plan to. I would be physically incapable of functioning normally. Well, normally for me anyway. (I haven't been able to figure out how I can get home at 4am after a night out with friends and be "fine" the next day. Studying must really take it out of me...)
So I get to the airport and through security and am waiting to board the plane when I hear something yipping. I think it's just one of the little kids making a noise or like one of their toys or something (because there were a lot of little kids on my 6:30 flight.) Weird, I know. Cheap parents trying to get a cheap flight. Hey! I have an excuse. I'm a college student with no money. And my flight was free. Probably because it was SO EARLY. Poor kids. I bet their parents aren't scouring the city for the last Furby on the planet for a Christmas present--thanks MOM :) Oh... I guess that was the nineties...
Anyway, I hear someone mention something about a dog. Surely they don't let dogs through security. Either way, I thought it was a kid making a fuss because they were tired. WRONG.
I totally forgot to check-in for my flight until late the night before. Therefore, I'm in group B. I like to sit in the front because I have a sensitive stomach so I was COMPLETELY surprised when there were two open seats in the third row next to a girl only a few years older than me. ULTIMATE SCORE! Not only will there be a seat between us for extra room, but I won't have to sit next to a creepy old man trying to hit on me the whole way home (made for an interesting/disturbing ride home from Annapolis, Maryland when I was but seventeen. Long flight too). So I ask her if anyone is sitting there because she must have saved the seats for them to be open. "No," she replies, "But I have a dog." Picture this: I have already put my backpack overhead and am in the middle of sitting down with one hand on each armrest slowly lowering myself into the seat when I suddenly stop mid-air, jerk my head to the right, and say, "I'm sorry; you have a what??" "Umm, I have a dog," she says as she points to a little Yorkie yipping in its Louis Vuitton carrying case. Of course. Of course a woman from Dallas would not put her precious companion in the luggage area beneath us. Of course she wouldn't dream of boarding him in an animal shelter place-thing while she traveled for the holidays. No, no, no sir! He is her pride and joy and deserves to ride in the cabin with her. I try to keep a straight face from laughing as I slowly stand up and say, "Ok, thanks." And run to find another seat before all the good ones fill up. I find one still close enough to the front but far enough away so that I don't hear that dog yapping the whole time. Seriously, it was worse than a baby on the plane! And that baby atleast deserves to be there.
I'm sorry, little dog. I really don't have anything against you. It's just your owner. I mean really, lady, its already obnoxiously early in the morning to be flying and what if someone was really allergic to dogs (like my brother)? And I know you have learned to deal with the yipping that your precious little dog makes because you just love her so much you can learn to deal with anything, anything at all as long as you get to be with her...but the rest of us haven't, ok? I know she looks absolutely presh--especially in that oh-so-cute designer carrying case--and you just love to show off your little baby, but (and this is a very big but, madam) your dog is NOT a baby and no, I do not want to hold her or hear about all the cute things she does. And no, humping a chew toy is not cute. It's disturbing. So I will kindly slump away so you're not embarrassed that no one wants to sit next to you. Just so you know, it's not so much about the dog (well, ok yeah kinda). But everyone is also wondering what else goes on in your little brain if you think that bringing a dog onto an airplane is normal.
I really didn't even know that they allowed dogs into cabins of airplanes anyway! I was actually pretty shocked.
Then to top it all off, I finally get home, walk in the door, and am greeted by a small, loudly yapping Shorkie (half Shitzu, half Yorkie) that my parents decided to get as soon as my brother and I moved out of the house. Home sweet home. It must be the Holidays...
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Mom, why didn't you tell me it would be this hard?
Whew! Life is rough. I really didn't know it was this hard. Mom, you could have told me that there was a little bit more than going to high school, then college, then working, getting married, making babies and living happily ever after. Then again, my 5-year-old self would have been traumatized for life and you probably wouldn't have been able to get me out of the house for the next 15 years. Which would have sucked for everyone involved.
I've been going through a slump recently. My mom and I think I have a mild case of SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder. Every year around this time I get a little more sad, have less energy and drive to do the things I love to do, and crave really, really bad food. Which is weird because I am usually a very healthy eater--especially in the summer. Everything is different in the summer. I love to be outside and workout and do everything but eat. In the winter it's totally different. I only want chocolate and to lounge around and do nothing. And I don't like it, even though I want to do it. Does that make sense?
SAD can be caused by different things related to the seasons changing and varies into different levels of severity. I obviously have a very mild case because I am still a functioning girl/woman/adult/kid/whatever-you-are-at-20. Well, normal for me anyway. Most people with it are affected by the lack of light experienced in the winter versus summer. Honestly, this is one of the reasons I decided to move to Texas. No, it wasn't a huge reason, but it was still a factor in my thinking.
This happened to me every year in high school starting freshman year. And we could never figure out what was going on until after a few years. So this year, I'm trying really hard to fight it. Like, really, really hard. I'm trying to eat right so I don't gain weight and get even more unhappy. But it's so hard not to do something that your brain is telling you it wants to do! And it's so hard to try and make yourself happy when your brain is telling you that you aren't as happy as you're used to being. And I'm usually a very happy person. I'm a born optimistic.
Don't get me wrong or anything! I'm not depressed! It's just a little slump due to the weather and stresses of school that always builds up around this time of the year. It's still unfortunate, but I'll get over it.
Man, this post is kind of depressing! Haha sorry! But it's still interesting, maybe? Like now you know something about me that not many people know? Wow, now I feel kind of vulnerable. But hey, you're taking time out of your day to read what I have to say so that must mean something right?
Now don't get me started on the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with my life! I have so many life plans that I don't know which road to take! I think I want to do something like AmeriCorps or TeachforAmerica right out of college. You know, go somewhere I've never been and help people I've never met. If I get married and start a family or career then I'll never have that opportunity again. But what if while I'm gone I miss out on married life and having kids? Or my life takes a different path and I never quite get back to that opportunity?
I'm also thinking about Grad school or law school. Which means debt. Yay. My dad has this awesome plan for me where I graduate from SMU, go to Law School, start working for the NCAA and eventually work my way up so that I help put together the major tournaments. Which did sound really cool when he was describing it...until my brain clicked. "Uhh, dad? This means you want courtside tickets to the the Final Four?" "Uhhh...."
You see, the biggest thing I fear in my life is regrets. I am such a second-guesser and always live in fear that I'm not optimizing my time doing what I'm doing or I don't know if I'm doing the right thing for me or if I really and truly like what I'm doing or I just tell myself I like where I am so that I can pretend that everything is great....
sorry, that was a mouthful.
I'm such a worrier. And I try not to be a worrier but it's just who I am! It's like, I think I know what I want, and then when I get it, I actually don't want it, I want something else, but no, that thing is no good either.... I guess I'm just not satisfied. And I've heard it's good to not be satisfied? So that you'll always be looking for something more? But what about being totally sure of your life and what you're doing? Shouldn't that be a good thing to do too?
Wow, depressing post. But at least I got it out. And was semi-philosophical.
Or maybe just crazy.
You're welcome.
I've been going through a slump recently. My mom and I think I have a mild case of SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder. Every year around this time I get a little more sad, have less energy and drive to do the things I love to do, and crave really, really bad food. Which is weird because I am usually a very healthy eater--especially in the summer. Everything is different in the summer. I love to be outside and workout and do everything but eat. In the winter it's totally different. I only want chocolate and to lounge around and do nothing. And I don't like it, even though I want to do it. Does that make sense?
SAD can be caused by different things related to the seasons changing and varies into different levels of severity. I obviously have a very mild case because I am still a functioning girl/woman/adult/kid/whatever-you-are-at-20. Well, normal for me anyway. Most people with it are affected by the lack of light experienced in the winter versus summer. Honestly, this is one of the reasons I decided to move to Texas. No, it wasn't a huge reason, but it was still a factor in my thinking.
This happened to me every year in high school starting freshman year. And we could never figure out what was going on until after a few years. So this year, I'm trying really hard to fight it. Like, really, really hard. I'm trying to eat right so I don't gain weight and get even more unhappy. But it's so hard not to do something that your brain is telling you it wants to do! And it's so hard to try and make yourself happy when your brain is telling you that you aren't as happy as you're used to being. And I'm usually a very happy person. I'm a born optimistic.
Don't get me wrong or anything! I'm not depressed! It's just a little slump due to the weather and stresses of school that always builds up around this time of the year. It's still unfortunate, but I'll get over it.
Man, this post is kind of depressing! Haha sorry! But it's still interesting, maybe? Like now you know something about me that not many people know? Wow, now I feel kind of vulnerable. But hey, you're taking time out of your day to read what I have to say so that must mean something right?
Now don't get me started on the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with my life! I have so many life plans that I don't know which road to take! I think I want to do something like AmeriCorps or TeachforAmerica right out of college. You know, go somewhere I've never been and help people I've never met. If I get married and start a family or career then I'll never have that opportunity again. But what if while I'm gone I miss out on married life and having kids? Or my life takes a different path and I never quite get back to that opportunity?
I'm also thinking about Grad school or law school. Which means debt. Yay. My dad has this awesome plan for me where I graduate from SMU, go to Law School, start working for the NCAA and eventually work my way up so that I help put together the major tournaments. Which did sound really cool when he was describing it...until my brain clicked. "Uhh, dad? This means you want courtside tickets to the the Final Four?" "Uhhh...."
You see, the biggest thing I fear in my life is regrets. I am such a second-guesser and always live in fear that I'm not optimizing my time doing what I'm doing or I don't know if I'm doing the right thing for me or if I really and truly like what I'm doing or I just tell myself I like where I am so that I can pretend that everything is great....
sorry, that was a mouthful.
I'm such a worrier. And I try not to be a worrier but it's just who I am! It's like, I think I know what I want, and then when I get it, I actually don't want it, I want something else, but no, that thing is no good either.... I guess I'm just not satisfied. And I've heard it's good to not be satisfied? So that you'll always be looking for something more? But what about being totally sure of your life and what you're doing? Shouldn't that be a good thing to do too?
Wow, depressing post. But at least I got it out. And was semi-philosophical.
Or maybe just crazy.
You're welcome.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
MY BODY DOESN'T BEND THAT WAY!!!!
Alright, soooo I've recently developed some back issues. What a semester, huh? It's actually not that big of a deal. My back has been a little tweaked on and off for last year and this semester. Lots of girls on my team have back issues so I'm thinking that it's kind of normal....except for the fact that pain really isn't normal...I think our coach just wants us to keep rowing....
It's like child labor except that I'm 20 and in college in the 21st century. I probably shouldn't say that in case anyone at SMU Athletics is reading this. Which I'm sure they're not. They're probably too busy counting the money they're saving from their new policy where Student-Athletes can't drop a course even if their failing. But that's a rant for another day....
So today I had an appointment for A.R.T. It's just this place outside of SMU that our trainer sends us for deep stretching (a.k.a. I don't know what it stands for). And when she told me that people were going to be stretching me out, she was making a HUGE understatement. As soon as I walked in the door they were like, "Woah, what's wrong with you?" "Umm..nothing. I'm just walking??" "Well, uhh, you're really messed up." "Thaaaaanks." They could just tell from the way I was walking that something was wrong with my glutes, hamstrings, and back muscles. This will be fun, I thought. I'll get a good deep stretch and feel completely refreshed. WRONG.
What followed for the next hour was intense, excruciating pain. PAIN. PAIN. PAIN. Two big men were making me curl up into a ball while they dug their hands into my muscles (to hold them still) as they slowly pulled and twisted my legs and arms away from my body. When my trainer said deep stretching, I think she meant that they were going to turn me into a contortionist against mine and my body's will. While they were "stretching me out" I am 100 percent positive that they were attempting to touch the wall 30 feet away from my bed. And I'm really not just trying to be funny when I say that. While they were pulling on my legs I really thought there was a bull's eye on the wall across from my bed and they got a bonus if they hit the big red circle. I looked after they let me get up but they must have taken it down while I was taking inventory of my muscles and ligaments.
Don't even get me started on where they put their hands. I was like, "Is this legal? Should I be concerned?" Talk about every single muscle of my butt got some. I'm pretty sure their orientation went like this: 1) Dig a hand as hard as you can into a muscle in patient's cheek. Go extra hard if she's a girl. 2) Pull the leg gently (optional, of course) away from the body and hold your hand firm in its place to be sure to not let the muscle go anywhere--this is what it's naturally trying to do as you pull the leg away but you need to fight that. 3) Move your hand a few tiny centimeters down from the spot you were just at. Be careful not to move too far or you'll miss something in that cheek and you'll have to start all over again. Then again, feel free to start over. Hey, it's not your body that's feeling the pain. 4) Go to the front side to get the "hip flexers". (Don't even get me started on that area--you don't wanna know.)
I also chose the completely wrong outfit to wear. I wore a t-shirt and gym shorts. That seems perfectly acceptable for stretching, right? WRONG. Every time they moved my leg, my shorts began to creep up and I was worried that, well....I was revealing too much leg.
Note for next time: wear pants. If there even is a next time. I'm standing while I'm writing this because I can't sit on my behind because it's yelling at me. Really loudly, too. Or is that about the chocolate I ate today? I can't tell anymore!!!!
But really, I would like to thank those people. I think. I'm pretty sure my body will feel better tomorrow. Or Friday. In the long run, I think it was worth it. Obviously, or else my trainer wouldn't have sent me there. So thank you, big burly men, for making me very uncomfortable for an hour as you tried to get my body back to normal. Too bad I'm no where close to normal. Guess I'll be seeing a lot more of them from now on. First name basis, here I come.
Oh, and I'm stealing that bull's eye sheet.
It's like child labor except that I'm 20 and in college in the 21st century. I probably shouldn't say that in case anyone at SMU Athletics is reading this. Which I'm sure they're not. They're probably too busy counting the money they're saving from their new policy where Student-Athletes can't drop a course even if their failing. But that's a rant for another day....
So today I had an appointment for A.R.T. It's just this place outside of SMU that our trainer sends us for deep stretching (a.k.a. I don't know what it stands for). And when she told me that people were going to be stretching me out, she was making a HUGE understatement. As soon as I walked in the door they were like, "Woah, what's wrong with you?" "Umm..nothing. I'm just walking??" "Well, uhh, you're really messed up." "Thaaaaanks." They could just tell from the way I was walking that something was wrong with my glutes, hamstrings, and back muscles. This will be fun, I thought. I'll get a good deep stretch and feel completely refreshed. WRONG.
What followed for the next hour was intense, excruciating pain. PAIN. PAIN. PAIN. Two big men were making me curl up into a ball while they dug their hands into my muscles (to hold them still) as they slowly pulled and twisted my legs and arms away from my body. When my trainer said deep stretching, I think she meant that they were going to turn me into a contortionist against mine and my body's will. While they were "stretching me out" I am 100 percent positive that they were attempting to touch the wall 30 feet away from my bed. And I'm really not just trying to be funny when I say that. While they were pulling on my legs I really thought there was a bull's eye on the wall across from my bed and they got a bonus if they hit the big red circle. I looked after they let me get up but they must have taken it down while I was taking inventory of my muscles and ligaments.
Don't even get me started on where they put their hands. I was like, "Is this legal? Should I be concerned?" Talk about every single muscle of my butt got some. I'm pretty sure their orientation went like this: 1) Dig a hand as hard as you can into a muscle in patient's cheek. Go extra hard if she's a girl. 2) Pull the leg gently (optional, of course) away from the body and hold your hand firm in its place to be sure to not let the muscle go anywhere--this is what it's naturally trying to do as you pull the leg away but you need to fight that. 3) Move your hand a few tiny centimeters down from the spot you were just at. Be careful not to move too far or you'll miss something in that cheek and you'll have to start all over again. Then again, feel free to start over. Hey, it's not your body that's feeling the pain. 4) Go to the front side to get the "hip flexers". (Don't even get me started on that area--you don't wanna know.)
I also chose the completely wrong outfit to wear. I wore a t-shirt and gym shorts. That seems perfectly acceptable for stretching, right? WRONG. Every time they moved my leg, my shorts began to creep up and I was worried that, well....I was revealing too much leg.
Note for next time: wear pants. If there even is a next time. I'm standing while I'm writing this because I can't sit on my behind because it's yelling at me. Really loudly, too. Or is that about the chocolate I ate today? I can't tell anymore!!!!
But really, I would like to thank those people. I think. I'm pretty sure my body will feel better tomorrow. Or Friday. In the long run, I think it was worth it. Obviously, or else my trainer wouldn't have sent me there. So thank you, big burly men, for making me very uncomfortable for an hour as you tried to get my body back to normal. Too bad I'm no where close to normal. Guess I'll be seeing a lot more of them from now on. First name basis, here I come.
Oh, and I'm stealing that bull's eye sheet.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Keep Walkin'
So this weekend was SMU Homecoming and my mom, dad, and brother came down to visit me, hangout, Boulevard, and go to the game. Well I thought they wanted to go to the game, but came to find out that they had no intentions because "Rice has not won yet this season so there's basically no point." After hanging out on the Boulevard for an extra hour and finally deciding to go to the game, I notice we are DOWN 7 to 20 to a team that HASN'T WON A GAME YET THIS SEASON. Only SMU. We finally pulled it together and won, Thank God.
Anyway, my birthday was last Tuesday. I turned 20. I am no longer a teenager. The first thing my roommate Outdoors Woman said to me was, "Congratulations! You will never be a teen pregnancy statistic!" Phew! I was really worried about that! That was the main reason I was excited to turn 20--I really didn't want to add to that problem...
So my mom took me shopping for birthday presents on Friday. Shopping with mom is always fun. She picks things out and I tell her they're "cute". If she puts them back on the rack, then all is good. When she considers buying them I tell her, "Umm I'm not so sure I like it that much." When she actually starts walking towards the cash register and is about to whip out her wallet, I get out in one last hurried breath, "Mom-don't-buy-it--it-reminds-me-of-an-old-lady!!" She has never pursued a purchase after one of those comments--that's always a sure-fire way to stop her dead in her tracks. My mom would NEVER want to look like an old lady. EVER EVER EVER. She's not old. Right?
Mother does like to shop though. I can't complain. I do too. We went to Nordstrom Rack on Friday (it's like a T.J. Maxx with all Nordstrom stuff 50-75% off) and were in there for THREE HOURS. Three. We finally decided to go and pay. I was done for the day. So was she...so she said. We paid and were walking out of the store when she saw some sunglasses. "Keeeep Walkin'," I said. She turned around and laughed because she knew exactly wheat I was getting at.
This continued to happen all weekend. We would be in a store and mom's wandering eye would get distracted by a deal or item or something. I would notice her head start to turn as she slowed her pace and began to contemplate venturing over until I would knowingly say, "Keep Walkin'." She would pretend not to know what I was talking about until I tilted my head to the side and looked sideways out of my eyes to let her know that I knew exactly what was going on in that little brain of hers.
This even happened on the Boulevard yesterday. My parents wanted to go to the Delta Gamma (sorority I am now affiliated with) tent. I initially knew this was not such a good idea. This year, the Boulevard Organizing Committee or whatever decided to get all the Greek students out of the main part of the Boulevard. (I wonder why they would want to do that?) So, they pushed them all up on Dallas Hall Lawn (the north part of the Boulevard). So basically the whole north part of campus is covered by drunk fraternity brothers and sorority sisters listening/dancing to questionable music. Obviously I don't mind it but this is not a place for a mom, dad, 12-year-old brother, and family friend. I showed them the tent (from a great distance away) and suggested we go back to the student athlete tent. As we meandered through the crowd thick with the smell of beer and sweaty Greeks, my family began to slow their pace and look around. I had to say, "Keep Walkin'," before they realized what kind of group I was going to begin affiliating myself with....and refuse to pay for it.
At the end of the weekend, my mom said that if my dad asked, my clothes cost more than they actually did....that way he wouldn't notice the (ahem) few extra things she picked up for herself. Looks like I need new techniques to help my mom with her wandering eye....
Love ya mom!! :)
Anyway, my birthday was last Tuesday. I turned 20. I am no longer a teenager. The first thing my roommate Outdoors Woman said to me was, "Congratulations! You will never be a teen pregnancy statistic!" Phew! I was really worried about that! That was the main reason I was excited to turn 20--I really didn't want to add to that problem...
So my mom took me shopping for birthday presents on Friday. Shopping with mom is always fun. She picks things out and I tell her they're "cute". If she puts them back on the rack, then all is good. When she considers buying them I tell her, "Umm I'm not so sure I like it that much." When she actually starts walking towards the cash register and is about to whip out her wallet, I get out in one last hurried breath, "Mom-don't-buy-it--it-reminds-me-of-an-old-lady!!" She has never pursued a purchase after one of those comments--that's always a sure-fire way to stop her dead in her tracks. My mom would NEVER want to look like an old lady. EVER EVER EVER. She's not old. Right?
Mother does like to shop though. I can't complain. I do too. We went to Nordstrom Rack on Friday (it's like a T.J. Maxx with all Nordstrom stuff 50-75% off) and were in there for THREE HOURS. Three. We finally decided to go and pay. I was done for the day. So was she...so she said. We paid and were walking out of the store when she saw some sunglasses. "Keeeep Walkin'," I said. She turned around and laughed because she knew exactly wheat I was getting at.
This continued to happen all weekend. We would be in a store and mom's wandering eye would get distracted by a deal or item or something. I would notice her head start to turn as she slowed her pace and began to contemplate venturing over until I would knowingly say, "Keep Walkin'." She would pretend not to know what I was talking about until I tilted my head to the side and looked sideways out of my eyes to let her know that I knew exactly what was going on in that little brain of hers.
This even happened on the Boulevard yesterday. My parents wanted to go to the Delta Gamma (sorority I am now affiliated with) tent. I initially knew this was not such a good idea. This year, the Boulevard Organizing Committee or whatever decided to get all the Greek students out of the main part of the Boulevard. (I wonder why they would want to do that?) So, they pushed them all up on Dallas Hall Lawn (the north part of the Boulevard). So basically the whole north part of campus is covered by drunk fraternity brothers and sorority sisters listening/dancing to questionable music. Obviously I don't mind it but this is not a place for a mom, dad, 12-year-old brother, and family friend. I showed them the tent (from a great distance away) and suggested we go back to the student athlete tent. As we meandered through the crowd thick with the smell of beer and sweaty Greeks, my family began to slow their pace and look around. I had to say, "Keep Walkin'," before they realized what kind of group I was going to begin affiliating myself with....and refuse to pay for it.
At the end of the weekend, my mom said that if my dad asked, my clothes cost more than they actually did....that way he wouldn't notice the (ahem) few extra things she picked up for herself. Looks like I need new techniques to help my mom with her wandering eye....
Love ya mom!! :)
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
I Crashed
I Crashed.
Mentally and physically crashed.
A girl can only do so much.
These past few weeks have been rough.
We've been at 20 hours of practice a week for rowing with excruciating workouts.
I've had midterm after midterm and paper after paper.
I'm the head of the committee for the Student Athlete Tent for Boulevarding (the SMU version of "tailgating"...because we're too classy to use pick-up trucks). I have food, furniture, and people to organize.
I joined a sorority. (Yes, I'm biting my tongue right now, thankyouverymuch)
I have a social life. I think.
So yes, I crashed. It was the morning of last Wednesday. I was in the boat at 6 am just about to begin a workout when I fell asleep. SITTING UP in a boat in the middle of the lake. And I had a dream. A legitimate dream. I woke up when our coxswain started yelling at us to start. After doing part of the workout and been given a break, I honestly did not know how I was going to finish. It was soooooo hard to lift my arms to fix my ponytail, much less push my legs back over and over until they filled with lactic acid...and then keep doing it through the pain. I had a Business Statistics midterm at 10. After practice I would have one and a half hours to review before I had to take it. I remember thinking, "You just have to get through today and then you will be ok. You can sleep and everything will be ok. Just get through today." Do I need to say that that did not happen?
Do I need to say that I left my apartment looking terrible? Like I had been up all night experimenting with and mixing drugs? As I brushed white powder off my sweatpants, I got into my car. Thinking, thinking, thinking all the way to school: "You can do this, you can do this, you can do this, you can.....ohh don't hit that girl crossing the crosswalk....." BOOM.
No, I didn't hit the girl. I was too focused on her to see a car coming right at me. Yes, we collided. I looked up and made eye contact with the poor guy behind the wheel. Did I realize that I had just been in a car acident? Not until I got out of the car and was assessing the damage in the middle of the intersection right in front of the school's parking garage and just off of campus while everyone was walking to school did I realize that I had been in a car accident. AND IT WAS ALL MY FAULT. All of it.
I lost it. Completely and utterly in hysterics. Was there alot of damage? No. Not even. I wasn't even moving and he hit me going a mere 2 mph. There is a little dent on his front bumper and my car looks the same as always--pristine condition. I was bawling my eyes out in the middle of the intersection because I had failed to get through the day. As far as I knew at that moment in time, my life sucked. The amount of tears coming out of my eyes could have filled up a lake. I was kindof wishing that it did so that I could row away from the mess.
The nice gentlemen, after securing a witness, came over to the hott mess that I was. He asked if I was ok and then gave me a big hug and said everything was going to be all right. I put my arms around him like a bear trap. I was not letting go. NOT AT ALL. Yes, this is the man that I just hit and no, I don't know him at all, but he had an English accent that made him seem friendlier so why not? And besides, I really needed a hug.
I cannot get over how nice he was. He couldn't understand why I was crying so hard because it really wasn't "that big of a deal". He knew something else was wrong. He said, "Haley," (because we were on first name basis by then) "I sure hope its not the boys stressing you out?" trying to make me laugh. He even felt bad about me missing class! When I said I was missing an exam, he was like, "Oh heavens! Well let's get this wrapped up quick so you can go take that!" He asked the policeman to write me a "pass" to re-take the exam.
I made it to my next class looking like I took a few more hits inbetween passing periods. And shot something into my eyeballs to make them swell half-shut.
But now I'm good. For now....
Mentally and physically crashed.
A girl can only do so much.
These past few weeks have been rough.
We've been at 20 hours of practice a week for rowing with excruciating workouts.
I've had midterm after midterm and paper after paper.
I'm the head of the committee for the Student Athlete Tent for Boulevarding (the SMU version of "tailgating"...because we're too classy to use pick-up trucks). I have food, furniture, and people to organize.
I joined a sorority. (Yes, I'm biting my tongue right now, thankyouverymuch)
I have a social life. I think.
So yes, I crashed. It was the morning of last Wednesday. I was in the boat at 6 am just about to begin a workout when I fell asleep. SITTING UP in a boat in the middle of the lake. And I had a dream. A legitimate dream. I woke up when our coxswain started yelling at us to start. After doing part of the workout and been given a break, I honestly did not know how I was going to finish. It was soooooo hard to lift my arms to fix my ponytail, much less push my legs back over and over until they filled with lactic acid...and then keep doing it through the pain. I had a Business Statistics midterm at 10. After practice I would have one and a half hours to review before I had to take it. I remember thinking, "You just have to get through today and then you will be ok. You can sleep and everything will be ok. Just get through today." Do I need to say that that did not happen?
Do I need to say that I left my apartment looking terrible? Like I had been up all night experimenting with and mixing drugs? As I brushed white powder off my sweatpants, I got into my car. Thinking, thinking, thinking all the way to school: "You can do this, you can do this, you can do this, you can.....ohh don't hit that girl crossing the crosswalk....." BOOM.
No, I didn't hit the girl. I was too focused on her to see a car coming right at me. Yes, we collided. I looked up and made eye contact with the poor guy behind the wheel. Did I realize that I had just been in a car acident? Not until I got out of the car and was assessing the damage in the middle of the intersection right in front of the school's parking garage and just off of campus while everyone was walking to school did I realize that I had been in a car accident. AND IT WAS ALL MY FAULT. All of it.
I lost it. Completely and utterly in hysterics. Was there alot of damage? No. Not even. I wasn't even moving and he hit me going a mere 2 mph. There is a little dent on his front bumper and my car looks the same as always--pristine condition. I was bawling my eyes out in the middle of the intersection because I had failed to get through the day. As far as I knew at that moment in time, my life sucked. The amount of tears coming out of my eyes could have filled up a lake. I was kindof wishing that it did so that I could row away from the mess.
The nice gentlemen, after securing a witness, came over to the hott mess that I was. He asked if I was ok and then gave me a big hug and said everything was going to be all right. I put my arms around him like a bear trap. I was not letting go. NOT AT ALL. Yes, this is the man that I just hit and no, I don't know him at all, but he had an English accent that made him seem friendlier so why not? And besides, I really needed a hug.
I cannot get over how nice he was. He couldn't understand why I was crying so hard because it really wasn't "that big of a deal". He knew something else was wrong. He said, "Haley," (because we were on first name basis by then) "I sure hope its not the boys stressing you out?" trying to make me laugh. He even felt bad about me missing class! When I said I was missing an exam, he was like, "Oh heavens! Well let's get this wrapped up quick so you can go take that!" He asked the policeman to write me a "pass" to re-take the exam.
I made it to my next class looking like I took a few more hits inbetween passing periods. And shot something into my eyeballs to make them swell half-shut.
But now I'm good. For now....
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