Story Time

My sister told me a story about her friend who lives down the street from a cemetery:

Her friend bought a house down the street from the cemetery and a couple years later she and her husband started noticing bubbles forming in the epoxy floor of their garage. They had builders out who discovered that under their house is a natural spring and the water had caused damage (and epoxy bubbles). So they had the floor dug up and the garage, basement, and foundation redone.

And under the foundation they found miscellaneous horseshoes, pottery, tombstones, and, oh oh, not to mention several BODIES. Evidently their property was part of the cemetery back in the 1900s. The bodies were supposed to be moved when the land was re-zoned, but evidently someone fell down on that job.

So, what would you do in this situation? (Move, right? You’d have to move.)

Apparently the land/remains/odds and ends were deemed as not historically significant, so the builders diverted the spring water to the neighbor’s yard for their garden, and then DUG THE FOUNDATION DEEPER, TOSSED IN THE BODIES AND CEMENTED OVER EVERYTHING. And then told my sister's friend afterward.

Me: “OHMYGOD.”

Sis: “Right? I couldn’t make this up. It’s like the legless man who robbed the bank in Crescent City.”

Me: WHAT?

Sis: Oh, there was a legless man who robbed the bank in Crescent City. I don’t know why he didn’t just pay someone to drive him away because he got away with 35,000 dollars but then he waited for the bus and they had to lower the handicap lift for him since he was in a wheelchair.

Me: …. O_o

This is what conversations with my sister are like, you guys.

25 Things

Okay, I'll play this game. Here are 25 Things that you may or may not know about me:

1. My pillow is named Lumpy. There are four other pillows on my bed. None of them have names.

2. For my middle school graduation the guys wore suits and the girls wore white dresses and all the graduates had to recite a poem. Not together, I mean, individually. You had to write a graduation poem, wait for your turn, and then go up to the podium and read it. I'm sorry, EVERYONE WHO ATTENDED THAT CEREMONY. That's an unreasonable amount of terrible symbolism to have to sit through. I don't remember (or, more accurately, I have blocked out) my poem. I only remember this one guy's that started with "June fifth, it's a beautiful day." It was a freezing cold and foggy day but now every time June fifth rolls around I STILL think "June fifth, it's a beautiful day." And now maybe you will, too.

3. I hate the texture of terra cotta.

4. In first grade I would sometimes get in trouble for playing with my toys inside my desk instead of concentrating on our lessons. There was a boy who sat next to me. I don't remember his name, but I distinctly remember the know-it-all quality of his voice when he would say "Teacher! Julia's playing with her Sharing toys!"

5. I will be forever grateful to my field hockey coach for her zero-tolerance policy on wimpy handshakes. "If I teach you nothing else this summer, every one of you will have a NICE FIRM HANDSHAKE by the end of it." And, BY GOD, we did.

6. My favorite pen is the Pilot EasyTouch fine point.

7. I never knew either of my grandfathers. They both died long before I was born.

8. In sixth grade I switched to a school that had uniforms. You had to wear your uniform except on "free dress days" or special occasion days like Halloween. I remember that Halloween I decided to be a tourist. I went all out-- goofy high up shorts, Hawaiian shirt, binoculars, big camera, travel books, fanny pack. When I tried it on at home I thought it was hilarious. Once I got to school, I realized all the other kids had worn 'cooler' costumes (I don't remember how costumes were deemed cool or not cool, only that mine fell decidedly into the not cool category). I spent the day shedding pieces of the costume. That's pretty much a metaphor for my entire experience at that school.

9. I never order chicken at a nice restaurant. I learned that from my mama.

10. I used to get grossed out by blood. Just thinking about blood going making its regular ho hum journey though the heart, lungs, and body made me start to get queasy. I got over it when I took my EMT class at age 24.

11. In my high school psychology class we had to do that thing where you carry around an egg for a week and pretend it is your baby. I named mine Conrad. It was a girl.

12. Senior year in college my two friends and I lived together in an apartment building with a strict 'no pets' policy. We had two kittens and a lizard.

13. I think Hugh Jackman is hot, but only as Wolverine.

14. I think Eddie Izzard is hot, but only in full makeup.

15. Some dumb things I remember doing as a kid: cutting my thumb because I was SHAVING a bar of soap, jumping off the stair ledge and doing a front flip onto the couch, climbing around on the bookshelves, and asking my mom was it okay with her if I stuck this piece of jagged metal into the electric socket?

16. Speaking of which, I got shocked by an electric socket on my El Salvador trip when I was trying to plug in my dad's laptop (so he could study up on the complicated surgeries he was performing). After I got shocked we still needed to charge our various electronics so we decided to try the other socket in our room. We got into an argument about who would test the next socket. His point: he was the DAD and I was the daughter so it was his job to do things like test electric sockets. My point: I was a nurse and he was the SURGEON-- his hands were far more valuable than mine on this trip. And then I shoved him aside and tested the socket. It didn't shock me.

17. I have a crease line on my nose, commonly known as the allergic salute. KC has one, too. So does my littlest niece.

18. One of the first tattoo ideas I had was a pair of wings on my back. I thought that was a super cool idea but I decided not to do it because (1) I found out it is totally cliche, and (2) it would have bothered me if the wings weren't big enough to support my body weight.

19. I had a radio show in high school. I played a lot of disco.

20. One day in second grade I brought to school this really cool set of erasable crayons that my grandma had given me. I noticed that the eraser had gone missing after recess and I had a feeling that this one mean girl had taken it. I waited until the next recess and I checked inside her desk. THE ERASER WAS THERE. So I took it back and put it in my desk. And then I chickened out and put it back in her desk so she wouldn't notice that it was missing and think I had taken it.

21. I like having long hair, but I hate having hair touch my face, or the back of my neck, or my arms, or my back. Especially when I'm sleeping. When I lie down, I sweep all my hair straight up atop my head so none of it can touch me.

22. I've always loved being read to. Still do, in fact.

23. My favorite year of college was sophomore year.

24. I have rather large and too many teeth for my mouth. My front teeth are big and my adult canine teeth grew in at the top of my gumline, like fangs. It took two sets of braces, 9 tooth extractions (some of baby teeth), a jaw widener contraption that someone had to crank every night, retainers, and lots of hours spent lying on the couch with an ice pack on my face to get this fabulous smile.

25. I'm named after my mom, sorta.

Perceptions

When I am confused I make this face.

Annnnd I just figured out why people think I'm angry when I'm actually confused. Squinty angry eyes and mouth set in a WHAT BITCH line. But, no. Confused. This is the face of someone actively trying to understand what is going on, what someone said, or what something means. The wheels are turning when this face is on.

I have examples! Three, in fact. They are kind of random in that they are three very different events separated by long periods of time. I don't want you to think that these are the ONLY times I've made my confused face within the past year. No no, I make my confused face on a regular basis-- it is squarely in the rotation of frequent facial expressions. These are just examples of times I've been particularly perplexed by a stranger's apparent perception of me. You'll see what I mean....

1. A year or so ago I was hanging out at the beach with my sister and her family. One of my sister's friends showed up with her own family. My sister introduced us. Her friend said "Oh, oh you're [my sister]'s sister with the tattoos." The italics in that sentence make it look like maybe I'm exaggerating but, really, she did say it like that. Like, OH I've heard about THIS one. And I was confused. Because what... does that mean? I'm her sister with the tattoos, am I? Not her sister with the giant cat? Her sister with the master's degree? Her sister who is tall and has brown hair? Her sister in nursing school? I am defined solely by my tattoos and all that they imply (WHICH IS WHAT EXACTLY?).
Confused face.

2. About a month ago I was at the county fair with Jenny and Gabriel, wandering around that area with booths representing local businesses that were giving away information packets and freebies like pens and stress balls. Gabey wanted to play this spin-the-wheel game at one of the booths. He won a pen. Jenny also won a pen. I won a pencil sharpener. The guy running the booth told me I could trade for something else if I wanted, "Because you don't seem like a girl who uses a lot of pencils." Jenny said he was probably trying to flirt with me but... what the? What was his angle? I don't seem like a girl who uses a lot of pencils because I'm stupid? Because I'm too pretty to do math? Because I'm that confident in my writing that I go straight to pens LIKE A BOSS?
Confused face.

3. A couple days ago was my first day volunteering at a clinic. I shadowed one of the nurses and learned how to triage and discharge the patients. At the end of the shift the woman in charge was introducing me to some of the other volunteers who had arrived after I had already started working. One of the NPs asked me a bunch of questions like where I had gone to school, when I finished, and what my specialty was. Then she asked if I had done the M3PN program and I said that I had. "Oh yeah," she said. "You seem like someone who hasn't worked as an RN before."
Confused. Face.
I seem like someone who hasn't worked as an RN before? WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? And how did I seem like that in the four minutes this woman saw me? Because I was following another nurse around and asking where things were? Because I looked somewhat lost and confused? IT WAS MY FIRST DAY.
How is one supposed to interpret a comment like that? I AM someone who hasn't worked as an RN in a clinic setting before, but would I be carrying myself any differently if I HAD? I keep trying to spin it like she was giving me a compliment. Like maybe I looked out of place in my business casual clothes when most of the other nurses were wearing scrubs or jeans...? I wish I could go back to that moment and ask "What do you mean?" when she made that comment, instead of what I actually did which was say "Okayyy...," make my confused face, and then obsess about it for two days.


Purely for your reference, here is my actual angry face:

Potpourri

I visited my sister recently and she LOVES her new tea set. She keeps it in her kitchen cupboard and uses it every day. It is pretty cute to see her kids pouring milk for breakfast out of a teapot.

Her friend came over while I was there and said "Oh I love your dishes! They look like fine china!" Then she turned a dish over and said "It IS fine china!"

Huh.

---

I got an email from Operati0n Rainb0w over the weekend-- apparently they are already scheduling their missions for next year. I'm hoping to go on one of the trips. If I do it will likely be to either El Salvador again, Ecuador, or the Dominican Republic, depending on when my dad wants to go, when my friend from last time wants to go, and if Operati0n Rainb0w, y'know, wants me back.
If I DO get to go I will bring the following:
- Sharpies
- Earplugs
- Fanny pack
Yes, apparently I have reached the point in my life wherein I wish for a fanny pack. It just would have been so convenient for running around to the patients' rooms carrying pens and meds and my notebook and my stethoscope and my chapstick. I spent so much time and energy searching for some good scrubs that fit okay and had lots of pockets and it turned out to be a waste of time since we only wore scrubs in the ORs. I had only brought scrubs for wearing in the hospital because that was what I had thought that was what I would be wearing, but since I spent most of my time in the patients' rooms and not the OR I ended up needing to wear other clothes. And the only other clothes I had brought were jeans (WAY TOO HOT) or shorts and tee shirts. I was WITHOUT POCKETS; it was tragic. So now if I do end up being able to go on another mission I think I will invest in a fanny pack, along with some of those way-too-expensive fancy traveling clothes that are meant to look nice, not wrinkle, and wick away sweat. And I definitely won't bring jeans.

---

I have been watching Toddlers and Tiaras on my computer. I am disturbed by MANY things in this show, not the least of which is their use of the word "crowning" in reference to the time in the pageant when crowns are awarded.

---

I am currently looking for a job. I am also preparing to take my certification exam, volunteering at a couple of clinics, and doing a hospice volunteer training program. I am getting a little tired of being asked how my job hunt is going. I know the asker always means well and is probably just curious and attempting to engage another human being in conversation, but I have been asked the following things so many times that I'm getting a little ON EDGE.
"Why don't you just get an RN job?"
"It must be easy to find a job since you're a nurse, right?"
And I say, as nicely as possible that yes, I am applying to RN as well as NP jobs and that no, in fact it is NOT easy to find a job just because I am a nurse since I am a nurse without experience.
What I want to say is STOP ASKING, PLEASE! WHEN I GET A JOB I WILL TELL YOU, I ASSURE YOU.

---

Flying kitties!

No cats were harmed in the making of these photos.

RIGHTNOW

I am currently:

- wearing my GREEN SHIRT.
- fine with the fact that my hair is a bit mussed. I'm not flat ironing it on such a beautiful day.
- not sure why the weather being nice influences my decision to style my hair BUT IT DOES.
- about to leave for a meeting with my advisor about my Giant Paper Thing that is due in a couple weeks.
- nervous about said Giant Paper Thing.
- looking forward to being done with said Giant Paper Thing but at the same not feeling good about the approaching deadline.
- drinking a real sugar Pepsi.
- attempting to summarize and critique an article for my Giant Paper Thing.
- enjoying the fact that some of the authors names include: Lautenschlager, Cox, Flicker, Greenop, and Bockxmeer.
- thinking I could really go for some Lautenschlager right now. That's a drink, right?
- apparently procrastinating.
- wishing I hadn't tripped and fallen the other day resulting in a huge bruise on my knee, nicely coinciding with the gorgeous skirt-wearing weather.


What are you doing?

Perspective

"Oh man. That guitar they had at Guitar Center was so sweet. Now my guitar sucks."

"Huh."

"You know what I mean? It's like I just shouldn't have even played that nice guitar. You know?"

"Mmm."

"It's like.... Think of it like if you drove a Ferrari and then you went back to driving your car. Your car would feel lame and slow."

"Well. My car just IS lame and slow. But I also don't care."

"But you can IMAGINE if you drove a Ferrari, right? And then your car wouldn't seem as nice?"

"Okay. Can you just try explaining this again? Try and think of something that will make sense to ME."

"..."

"Something I can relate to?"

"Okay... Let's see... imagine you rode, like, the best horse ever. Like imagine you rode Seabiscuit. No, wait. Imagine you rode Black Beauty and then you went back and had to ride a regular horse."

"OH."

"Yeah. You know Black Beauty, right? You're riding through a beautiful forest with long flowing hair-"

"Wait, me or the horse?"

"Uh.... Both! You both have long flowing hair."

"Okay I get it now. Your guitar sucks."

Letter to My Heart

This is what happens when Jenny writes a letter to your heart.

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Love love love,
Julesy

Things of No Importance

I spent this afternoon at the Anchor Brewing Company, which means that now seems like a GREAT time to share some random thoughts:

1. Remember when I told you about the shows I like to watch because I don't care about the characters? Well I USED to like watching 16 & Pregnant/Teen Mom for that same reason. But now it has become apparent that I actually CARE about Teen Mom 2's Leah. Which means that watching the show makes me a little nervous because all I want to see is her happy with her babies and in love and everything's great la la la!

2. My new People magazine had a story about the chick from all the Spy Kids movies, Alexa Vega. I squinched up my eyebrows and muttered "Alexa Vega... Alexa Vega..." for a few seconds before it hit me. Alexa Vega! From one of my VERY favorite movies of all time: Repo! The Genetic Opera. It may surprise you to know that one of my favorite movies is one from the horror/rock-opera genre given the information in Item 1, but I luuurve it. There wasn't any real point in bringing up the People magazine story, just that Alexa Vega exists and she's in a movie I really like. Oh! And she can sing, in case you were wondering that.

3. My new People magazine also says that Jesse James proposed to Kat Von D. Somewhere, I hope Sandra Bullock is LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY.

Potpourri

For someone who doesn't have cable I've certainly been managing to watch a few too many episodes of both Gossip Girl and The Secret Life of the American Teenager (hereafter referred to as Secret Life as that title is far too long). Actually, I don't have the attention span to sit down and watch shows, but I do like to have some noise in the background whilst I'm puttering around the house and washing dishes and such.
I find it interesting that these two shows have captured my attention because Gossip Girl is full of characters I CAN'T STAND and don't sympathize with and don't like ONE BIT (Why did you become such a tool, Dan? Why?) and don't care if bad things happen to them. But then Secret Life is full of characters that are likable and who I can sympathize with despite their poor choices and ... Oh wait. I figured it out. It's because I don't actually care about any of those characters either. Neither show has me INVESTED enough to care if something bad happens to their characters. In other words, neither show can HURT ME. Yes, that's what I said. Because I didn't think reading the Hunger Games series could hurt me even though it was violent and mind-boggling but oh ho ho, the author managed to kill off the ONE character I LOVED and so I read the rest of the book(s? [no spoilers here]) feeling wounded and mad. And I don't like to feel wounded or mad when I'm listening to TV and folding my laundry so that means I can't get too invested and I guess that solves the mystery of why I like both Gossip Girl and Secret Life. Glad that's settled. As you were.

---

I was going through the photos on my phone yesterday and I found a couple that I thought I would share in sort of a randomly assorted kind of way.

I decided to take a shortcut through an alley a few months ago. I was just walking along, minding my own business. And then I came across THIS:

Of course. Why am I even surprised at the things I see on the streets of San Francisco, anymore? Coffin boxes. Rainbow-dyed dogs. A whole horde of people dressed as Santas. There are usually plenty of interestingly dressed people but my favorite by far was a man I saw just a couple weeks ago while walking down Polk Street. Amongst the flamboyantly dressed and leather clad citizens of the Tenderloin this man was delightfully understated, wearing jeans and a tee shirt with long hair and a handlebar mustache and just a hint of something extra-- a pair of long blue dangly earrings.

---

I went to Chinatown awhile back and stood in front of this display for a rather long time.

I must have some sort of sensory issue because all I wanted to do was stand there and fondle those small objects. I particularly enjoyed picking up one and squeezing it in my hand. It was HIGHLY satisfying.

---

Um. One of my chairs broke. Actually, only the seat split in half first. KC told me he could fix it. And then I tried to move it aside into the corner while I was doing something at the table and it ended up like THIS:

Apparently I do not know my own strength. Ha ha. Just kidding. The chair must have been held together with wishes and spit because anyone who has met me in real life knows my arm muscles are purely decorative.

---

The other day I wanted to make my bed. Bowie was on the bed and would not move. So I made the bed with him in it.

Oh GOODNESS.

---

I have clinical tomorrow. My preceptor emailed me and said she'd prefer if I stayed the full 12 hours so we could debrief and plan out the rest of the quarter. Twelve hour shifts were the norm during my first year (the RN part of my program) but for the past year and a half we've switched to the kinder schedule of 6-8 hr days. And those days are intense enough, I'll tell ya what. I'm usually exhausted after them. Anyhow, most of my preceptors have not been on the 12 hr day schedules but this one is and she'd like me to stay that long. And so I will. But right now I'm sort of worrying about how on earth I'm going to cram enough snacks into my bag for tomorrow. For an 8 hour day's snacks and lunch I usually bring fruit strips, string cheese, a sandwich, an apple juice, crackers or pretzels, a granola bar, some berries, and a big bottle of water. So what am I supposed to add on there for a 12 hour day? Gah. Interesting how I really ought to be worrying about understanding EKGs and identifying heart sounds but no no here I am spending my time fretting about SNACKS.

Random Photos with Explanations

This? This is what happens when your doctor proposes the concept of reinfecting yourself with Poison Oak and then you wear a skirt and new red bumps appear on your upper thigh and so instead of tearing your hair out you decide it might be best to set fire to wash all of your clothes.

Yeah, Regina Leeds, I know I know I'm supposed to be zenning my laundry area. LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU.

I bribed Gabey with a cookie to take a photo with me.

My goodness he's just brown as a little berry isn't he? In contrast, I am white as a SHEET.
And then he tried to go hang out in my bedroom.
"I don't want you to touch my bed with your strawberry hands."
"I don't have strawberry hands."
"What did you just eat?"
"A strawberry."
"So...."
And then he showed us how he could eat the strawberries no-handedly:

You can't tell, but that cutting board is resting on Miss Grace's belly.

Tonight I decided to serve myself some yogurt as my post-workout pre-dinner snack. Then I got out the sour cream because I was going to put some on my dinner. And then I ate a big spoonful of yogurt. And then I was grossed out because it didn't taste like sour cream like I was expecting it to. And then I wondered WHY ON EARTH I thought I was taking a eating a big spoonful of sour cream?

I bought cherries. I like to call them cheeries. Because they bring me cheer. And also I once saw a misspelled sign for them.

You know what I find incredibly relaxing and zen and therapeutic? Staying home for the evening, putting on some background noise like an old sitcom on DVD and making a big pot of soup, preferably with lots of ingredients that need to simmer for a long time.

It started during the fall when I was all stressed out and riddled with anxiety and it was just a nice way to pass the time and help myself relax for the evening.

Well I think that is all I have to tell you about right now. I don't seem to have anything that will tie all of this neatly together so how about a gratuitous hat photo? Check out the shadow.

Bagel Day

Me, yesterday, to anyone: Tomorrow's Bagel Day!

Anyone, to me: Do they give out free bagels?

Me: No...

Anyone: Does somebody bring bagels for your class?

Me: No...

Anyone: Do you bring bagels for everyone?

Me: No...

Anyone: Then what the hell is Bagel Day?

Me: I just... buy myself a bagel at the cafeteria on Wednesdays.

Anyone: Oh.
 

It's Bagel Day! Yay!

My ivorosity.

I was checking out the photos from this weekend and man oh man I am PALE.

This pic is actually cute. But dang. My face. Is WHITE.

I have to remind myself that, actually, this represents a conscious choice. Because I used to like to be tannish. I lounged in the sun. I felt pleased when my skin browned.

Then in college I started wearing sunscreen on my face every day because that LA sun is a scorcher and I could get sunburned just by walking around campus between classes. And then both my dad and sister had to get bits of skin cancer removed from their faces. And I have tattoos and I don't want to end up looking wizened and leathery and I've already had to have numerous moles removed, so I pretty much have no business spending excessive amounts of time in the sun.

I mean, don't get me wrong. I still enjoy hot weather and wearing little summery dresses and skimpy bathing suits. And I definitely still do my fair share of outdoor activities. And I'm always cold and man oh man there is NOTHING like the feeling of the warm sun on your skin. But, sigh, I'm much more careful now. And I accept my paleness.
My deficit of skin pigmentation.
My ghostiness. My wannity. My pallidosity. My achromaticallity. My milkishness.
My alabastarity.

Scatterbrained

Today! My box of farm fresh fruits and veggies arrived at my door. It's like getting a little surprise package. And it makes my fruit bowl look so nicely full and overflowing with nature's bounty:

And I also receive some things I wouldn't normally buy, prompting me to branch out and experiment with something new. Such as this, uh leafy green whatever it is:

Seriously, what is it? And how do I cook it?

Speaking of questions-- how does one wash tights? When I thought about asking this question, I tried to think how people might respond. And then I thought of handwashing them. But just be aware that if you tell me to handwash them you are basically telling me to never wash them. Which is kind of my policy right now.

Also, I had to get some blood drawn today. When the phlebotomist went to jab me, he noticed my tattoo and said "oh, I guess you're probably okay with needles, haha!" And I wanted to say Actually no, that is a different kind of needle and I didn't exactly premedicate today but instead I just said what I usually say when I'm caught off guard: "Heh."

Music to my Ears

Some people have those fancy newfangled programs on their iphones or ipods or whatevers where you hold up your device to a radio speaker and it will *ding!* magically tell you whatever is playing. Well I don't have that yet. When I hear a song that I like, I scramble for a scrap of paper and a writing impliment and I start scribbling down the lyrics as fast as I can. Then I google the lyrics and voila! I've found the song I want to download!

A few weeks ago I was wandering around Nordstrom and I came to a dead stop underneath one of their speakers because, wow, there was a good song playing. I whipped out my phone and franticallly texted myself the lyrics to this FANTASTIC song. I went home, googled it, downladed it off itunes, put it on a mix cd and have since been perpetually playing it in my car.

I am shamefully ready to announce the name of that song: Keep it Real. By the Jonas Brothers.

You may commence with the mocking.

A moment from our drive (redacted)

We spent a lot of time in the car. Having many conversations like this one:

[Redacted cuz it had a little too much work info in there]

Did you know that Jessica Rabbit wears a red dress? Jenny thought it was purple...

I wanna text you up

I recently had to change my phone number. Since then, every once in awhile I'll get a text message from a number I don't know saying something like this:

So I got c b a a b b d a d c c d c a d b d a b Tell me what u got.

Or,

I think num 17 is a not c right?

Today I wrote back: Wrong number... Maybe you should try studying instead.

Maybe they will?

Text Conversation of Magic

We are still broken. But it is also still NaBloPoMo. So here we are. This is a conversation via text message from yesterday morn.

Julia: Are you alive my darling??

Jenny: Barely

Julia: Where ARE you??

Jenny: In a gutter? Not oakland. And i just put on pants?

Julia: Oh my god come home

Jenny: Working on it? Aman is talking about a physics professor. How are you?

Julia: What the fuck why do you always text me things that will only make sense after I see you?!? I am good... hungover...

Jenny: Once we figure out where we are wanna get us?

Julia: Oh my god really I have to drive? I think that might be a bad idea. Oooh actually I will bring turducken

Jenny: I meant for car moving purposes? In awhile

Julia: Yes. But don't you want to shower and stuff before we go somewhere? Oh whatever I will come get u whenever u want... WHERE ARE U?

Jenny: In san francisco. South of you. We tried to come home but could not get inside.

Julia: Oh shit I am so sorry... why didn't you call me?

Jenny: I thought we called you but i was INTOXICATED. Actually we got into building but couldn't get upstairs.

Julia: Next time I will give u keys. So uh WHERE did you guys end up staying? I feel bad.

Jenny: The vagabond inn? Don't feel bad. Buy us breakfast!

Julia: Oh man... deal.

Jenny: Bring me my sunglasses when you come?

Julia: Ok... lemme know when.

Jenny: I don't think I can stand yet... also my giants shirt from my basket.

Julia: Anything else your majesty?

Jenny: No my darling. But ouch.

Julia: YES OUCH. Looking up directions... your hotel is located off many one way streets.

Jenny: Awesome. There's blood on the ceiling here...

Allergic to Compazine

The other day at Student Health I was asked by both the doctor and the pharmacist if I was allergic to any medications. Both times I nearly shouted YES!

Yes! Allergic! YES! WRITE IT DOWN!

I am allergic to Compazine.

ALLERGIC TO COMPAZINE!!!

I may overemphasize this just a tad.

But, journey back five or six years with me, will you?

...

It was the summer before my senior year in college. I was in Fiji. I had managed to convince a travel company that they should pay my travel expenses and in exchange I would take hours and hours of video of the countryside, the villages, the towns, the activities offered by the company, and then give them the raw footage. It was a pretty sweet deal (for me).

The places I stayed ranged from beach resorts to family huts in tiny villages. It was incredible. I got to travel all over the place, meeting all sorts of interesting people, eating nummy food, learning about the culture. But then I got sick.

Looking back, I guess it had happened slowly, I had been feeling generally icky for about a week. But the worst of it came on suddenly. One minute I was chatting with the locals, getting ready to go into the dinner hut.

The next minute I was curled into a ball on the floor shaking, sweating, vomiting, writhing, hobbling to the outhouse and then collapsing onto the floor again. I could barely speak, barely breathe.

I thought I was going to die.
No, actually. I was certain I was going to die.

Your appendix has probably burst or something.

aaruuuugh. Okay.

We can either take you to the doctor in the next village, or down to Nadi to the Emergency room, but that's 3 hours away.

Nadi. arrrrrhghhhhhha.

So down the dirt road through the darkened countryside we went. The driver and another staff member in the cab and me lying on a mattress in the truck bed. Every fifteen minutes or so the other staff member would shine her flashlight on me and I would give a weak thumbs up to let her know I was still alive. I lay on my left side, whimpering to myself. As we careened down the mountain, sometimes I caught a glimpse of the moon. The cloud shapes looked demonic. I am going to die.

We arrived in Nadi. The people (not doctors, not sure who they were) in the ER gave me some opioid painkiller and I passed out. The next day, I was diagnosed with Giardia.

So I was given a variety of antibiotics, more opioids, and an antinausea medication that I now know is called Compazine. I started feeling better. After a few days I felt like I could function. I could walk around. I could eat. I could sleep. I wasn't paralyzed by the pain or throwing up and throwing up and dry heaving and throwing up bile.

But then after about 3 days my face started feeling weird. It started with just slight movements-- it was as though my lips were twitching and I couldn't control them.

Over the next hour, my jaw and neck grew tight and my tongue felt like it was glued to the bottom of my mouth. And then all of a sudden, I couldn't move.

My neck and jaw muscles started aching from being tensed but I couldn't relax them. My throat felt like it was closing up. I tried to call a taxi to take me to the emergency room, but they couldn't understand me so they hung up.

Now, in case you can't imagine what I might have looked like in this situation, here are some dramatic reenactment photos.

My head and neck could ONLY be in the following positions:

Looking rigidly up and back.

Or, looking rigidly down and forward.

I AM NOT EXAGGERATING.

I know it looks funny NOW, but at the time I couldn't control it and I couldn't speak so I was thinking things like: What the hell is happening to me. WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO ME? I am going to be deformed for the rest of my life. Oh my god oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD what is going on. I think I would rather die.

I motioned to the other staff member staying in the house with me to CALL A FUCKING TAXI and he looked at me.

I think you're fine, Julia.

Cllaooolll a taaahksi (Call a taxi).

You just need to drink some water.

Plsheashe shelelep meeeeee. (Please help me).

Finally, he sighed, rolled his eyes, and called a taxi and took me to the emergency room. They gave me a shot of... something? And it went away. And the relief I felt? Intoxicating.

So. I know. I KNOW there are people out there with much much much much worse allergies. But this was terrifying.

I sympathize with your allergies, big or small, confusing or straightforward, common or rare.

Because. I am allergic to Compazine.

Allergic to Compazine.

ALLERGIC TO COMPAZINE!!!

Chew Toy

Despite the usually riveting lectures, sometimes I need a little something or other to keep me alert during class. I'll often snack on grapes, cereal, marshmallows, or raisins. I don't drink coffee, but occasionally I will buy an Earl Grey tea (which I think smells like Froot Loops-- anyone else??) and the sipping as well as the caffeine helps keep my eyes bright. And sometimes I will reach for my emergency pack of Trident. I don't chew gum often-- the flavor loss and aftertaste tend bug me and I also think I am a pretty annoying gum chewer (I smack, I pop tiny bubbles, I chew really fast)-- but it does the trick in a pinch. So I treated myself to a brand new pack for this brand new quarter. Hm. This post was a lot more interesting in my head.

What is this feeling?

Instead of having clinicals from 7-1 yesterday, we had a special meeting at this community health center from about 8-10 and then all branched off to learn about other organizations. I had gotten up at around 6:50 and as I was getting ready, I was overcome by an odd sensation.

I was bewildered. "What is this feeling?" I thought to myself, "Why does my head feel so strange? What is the matter with me? It feels familiar but what's going on? I'm so confused."

"Oh wait."

"I'm rested."