If I have nothing to say..

     That doesn't mean I'm depressed, angry, nervous, or anything else you're going to try to come up with. Granted it could, but I'm not typical. I'm not like you.

     If I'm not talking, it's because if I did, the only things that would come out of my mouth would be unintelligent and useless to you. I rarely see a point in chattering for the sake of nothing. Weakness triggers an awkward feeling if you cannot be with someone without conversation, and be okay with it.

     Another reason for my lack of words- I'm probably thinking about something deeper than shopping at Target. However, thoughts don't equal sadness, they equal revelations.

     So there, that's what I have to say.

What it's like to love on Adderall

     When I first started taking Adderall a few months ago, my best friend—or so I'd still like to consider her—told me to remember something very important. She advised, "While taking it you may feel like you want to talk to everyone, people you normally wouldn't. People you don't like, people that don't like you, maybe even your ex's. You need to control yourself and not talk to them no matter how much of a good idea it sounds like."

     Within the first few days on the medication I knew exactly what she was talking about. Perfect example, I had an urge to text my first serious boyfriend to tell him that I saw someone that looked just like him—which I really did—but I knew deep down underneath the "medication happiness" that I wouldn't normally even consider doing that, and that he really didn't care. (See here for what he thinks of me.)

     Besides talking to crazy ex's though that obviously hate me, I'm starting to believe there's no reason to not take advantage of the confidence Adderall gives me to speak to people I have problems with. So what if they don't get anything out of it and tell me to piss off? I know I'm doing something positive that makes me feel good, and most importantly it will make some others feel good, the ones that don't lash back at me immaturely. I have to remind myself that I'm not taking Adderall recreationally, I'm taking it because without it I'm not the complete person I was meant to be. Therefore, if I was born "normal" without any disorders like ADD/ADHD, I would be this happy, outgoing, forgiving, loving person that I know I was meant to be.

     As you can probably tell, I am having one of those days where I feel like everyone wants to talk to me, even people that hate me. People that I have "bad shit" with. People that I don't even like. Can you really criticize me though for wanting to tell everyone in the world they are loved? Regardless of whatever they have done, and expect no repentance in return?

You are loved, I love you.

Dedicated to my friend, the one I mentioned in the beginning.

(She and me on my birthday at Rainforest Cafe.)

End of Summer Survey

Summer of 2009

End of the Summer Survey Created by insomnisnoctu and taken 1834 times on Bzoink
Basics
Your name?:	Alexis :)
Age?:	I turned 17 this summer!
How many summers have you lived through?:	17, or 16 if you don't count the one I was born during. (My birthday is July 27th)
What are you doing after this summer?:	Getting my permit (passed the test, I'm just waiting for my appointment on Oct 2nd :)), volunteering at Emeritus (already started that), trying to get a job.
When was your favorite summer (what year)?:	This year's, the summer of 2009!
This Summer
Was this summer good?:	Yes it was amazing because I made it so :) I vowed to myself at the beginning of summer that I'd make it the best summer I've ever had. That I'd go out and have fun at every opportunity, and that I'd MAKE opportunities.
Did you work?:	I wish! I applied to over ten places but never got a call back. A lot of jobs in central Florida require you to be 18 (typical) but they also require you to speak Spanish which is DUMB.
If so, where?:	N/A unfortunately
Friends you hung out with?:	All of them :) Mainly Kaffa in the beginning, and Bianca in the latter. I hung out with everyone though.
Any summer love?:	I had a brief period of "on-again" with my most recent ex, but it didn't last. This summer was basically spent being talked to by guys that already had girlfriends. Yup, I attract the LOSERS.
What occupied most of your time?:	Hanging out with my friends and having a ton of fun. :) I did that ALL summer. A big part of my summer was vacation too, and having H1N1.
What did you wish you'd done more of?:	I wish I would have written more about everything that I did honestly. I wrote in my journal during the beginning of summer, but I stopped mid-way through. I started COSA18 a little while later though :) I also wish I would have taken more vitamins, or I might not have gotten H1N1.
Any big accomplishments?:	I picked up a two year medallion at NA! Also, I finally passed my permit test with a perfect score at the very end of summer, but who cares haha. :)
Weird realizations?:	Sure, Epictetus's book "The Art of Living". It's full of realization-provoking speculation, especially the idea that all events are impersonal. It's not events that affect is, it's how we react to them. The other day I had this realization too, "I think everyone but me has known up to this point that I can't get over him and I haven't even admitted to myself that I was interested to begin with. Now though I recognize the constant feeling when my thoughts are clouded of you. Interested is an understatement, but it's not love. Damn you."  (Copied from my Myspace)
Do something you never have before?:	A ton! 1. My mom let me drive her brand new car--WOAH--on the interstate, I got to go up to 80 MPH because it was a low entrance/exit highway. It was illegal because I don't have a permit and it was after my age's "driving curfew", but whatever I didn't get caught lol. I bet a lot of people drive illegally at some point. 2. I got into my first fist fight, with a grown man roughly 275lbs in the presence of Marilyn Manson at Mayhem Festival in Tampa. I won! Haha.  3. On a sadder note, I rode in the back of an ambulance to the hospital for the first, and hopefully the last, time.
Do something you never want to do again?:	I never want to have to get my nose pierced again, lol. I had to get it repierced this summer because the stud fell out while I had a cold. I never want to get H1N1 (Swine Flu) again either!
Summer Media
Read any good books this summer?:	"The Art of Living" by Epictetus and "The Elements of Style" by William Strunk Jr. :)
Did you see any good movies?:	I saw a TON of good movies! I'm going to make write an entry about all the movies I saw this summer soon.
See any movies that you didn't like?:	Ice Age 3 sucked, I was so bored.
Music that defined the happiest moments of this summer?:	"The Fame"!!!
Music that defined the saddest moments of this summer?:	"WOW", "Wight Spider", only because they describe how I feel about love.
Favorite band you were introducted to?:	Lady Gaga!
Favorite song you were introduced to?:	"The Fame" :) and the "Love Game" remix with Manson vocals
Did you watch a lot of television?:	Sort of but not really. I watched my regular shows.
If so, what did you watch primarily?:	Lots of Roseanne, Chelsea Lately, CNN, and The Soup.
Did you pay attention to the news?:	Of COURSE! Just listed that haha.
One of the best things to come of this summer, as far as the media goes?:	Healthcare Reform!!
Summer Experiences
Did you go on a vacation of some kind?:	Sure did! Went to Savannah, GA on the way to Greenville, SC to visit my aunt Sandra, then from Greenville we went to Myrtle Beach, SC for a week, then to Savannah again on the way back to Orlando.
What was the farthest you went from your home this summer?:	Myrtle Beach, SC, I think that's farther than Greenville. Could be wrong though.
Did family/friends from faraway visit?:	No :( We visited them though!
One of the more enjoyable moments of the summer?:	Sitting at the computer all day replying to tons of Facebook comments on my birthday. My mom and I literally sat at the computer ALL DAY (until I went out of course).
One of the worst moments of the summer?:	Fighting with my best friend.
Do anything that you regret doing?:	Honestly, not really
Do anything that you'll gloat about later?:	Driving, haha :D I've already gloated though.
Did you spend more time awake in the nighttime or in the daytime?:	I would say night, but realistically probably the day.
Wrapping up...
Are you typically a summertime person?:	No, but this year I went all out and had as much fun as I could!
Are you looking forward to this next year?:	YES! I'll be 18 so I'm SUPER excited of the trouble I'll be able to get into.. legally ;)
Overall, would you say that you enjoyed your summer?:	I thouroughly enjoyed my summer, yes :)
What was the most memorable part of this summer?:	Getting my two year medallion in front of my family and friends.
Anything you'd like to add?:	I saw Miley Cyrus "in the flesh" on Tybee Island, twenty minutes away from Savannah :)
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The addict is often the target of judgement

     I've been there before, but if I had to admit it now that I needed medication due to having Bipolar II, I would feel extremely weak. When my doctor diagnosed me as having ADD/ADHD, she even suggested that she might have misdiagnosed me years ago with the emotional disorder. Adderall should be enough to keep me happy, especially Adderall that time-releases for twelve hours, right? Why doesn't it then?

     My dad has said some pretty hurtful things to me about this before. "You get cranky at night", and "Maybe you need medication for your depression too". They may seem minute compared to things your parents may have said or done to you, but my dad and I have a very strong relationship. We have always been very understanding of each others ways. I haven't figured out why as of late, I'm the main target of his rare judgmental thoughts. In my opinion, I should be the last person he judges considering I'm his daughter, and I'm not irrational.

     I feel attacked when he—or anyone else—says things like that for two main reasons. One, everyone still treats me like I'm actively self mutilating, when I'm not. Usually I'm not treated like such in every day life, but when I get upset in any way that's when it begins. Now my emotions are exaggerated by others, when I used to be the one exaggerating them to ridiculous lengths. I suppose they're so used to it—despite it being over two years later—that they feel it's their job now to make sure everything that I go through is an irrational crisis, when it's really not. It's not even so much that they turn the event into a crisis, but they expect my reaction to be dramatic, so they act as if it is already, or as if I'm going to explode at any second.

     My second reason ties into the first. I'm expected to be happy now because I'm clean, which is fine because I typically am in a cheerful mood. I truly believe that deep down underneath all the mental disorders and traumatic experiences I was meant to be a happy, productive human being. However, now they demand without words that because I'm clean, I cannot ever be sad, upset, or angry. That "so obviously" equals relapse in their eyes, which just isn't true. I didn't work so hard to regain their trust and respect for two years, just for them to throw things back in my face once I finally feel comfortable enough to show them my emotions, whatever they may be.

     The comments and actions of others makes me want to clam up again, and not show my negative emotions because they're not accepting of them. Since the comments made by my dad, I've held back from crying on several occasions when I have been really upset, only to cry myself to sleep later. I just want to avoid more judgement, and more hurtful things being said towards me.

     I don't understand how me, out of all the types of people out there, is the one being judged. I recovered from a disease of addiction, and I'm the main target of people's judgement? Some of these people should really take a peek into their mirrors and reexamine themselves. If judgement is to exist in our world, I know I'm not the one deserving of it most.

     My point in all this is that I don't believe I need medication, I consider the few problems I do have to be pretty rational. I'm not worrying over things that will never happen, like a shark flying through my window and eating me. So why do people insist I do?

"The Art of Living" by Epictetus

"The Art of Living" by Epictetus has enlightened me on so many things in life.

(There's got to be a reason the word "epic" is in his name.)

     Epictetus's teachings have thouroughly changed my life in a way that's been more powerful than any religious book has ever tried to convince me. When I saw this card on PostSecret Community I instantly thought, "That's taught in "The Art of Living", maybe if this person had read it they wouldn't have had to write "even me"." That is how powerful this book is. You can literally relate it to any possible event or obstacle in life, and by learning "all events are impersonal", they can no longer affect you. I am ridding myself of guilt like I'm detoxing from a drug, and honestly it feels amazing.

     As a warning from experience, if you apply Epictetus's teachings to your life, prepare for the possibility of people to call you cold-hearted. It's absolutely crucial to always remember that they're the one's that are dealing with life the wrong way by overreacting to events they come upon, allowing themselves to experience guilt, by dwelling, etc. However, if you take what Epictetus had to say to heart, you will have no problem with unallowing their name-calling affect you.

     It's okay to admit you're better than others, but it's not okay to claim you're better than others when you're really not, or to ever brag. Too often people are afraid of owning their positive qualities in fear that people will judge them. Learn the difference between confessing positive qualities and bragging about them, or qualities that don't even exist within you.

Marilyn Manson has the H1N1 virus.

     You probably haven't heard unless you follow him as closely as I do, but Marilyn Manson has been diagnosed with H1N1, the human version of the infamous Swine Flu virus. Manson posted a bulletin about it on Myspace, seemingly self-written. I wouldn't be surprised if the news had made it's way over to his official website by now. Anyway, on Myspace he has released the following statement:

"So I have officially been diagnosed, by a real doctor, with THE SWINE FLU. I know everyone will suggest that fucking a pig is how this disease was obtained. However, the doctor said, my past choices in women have in no way contributed to me acquiring this mysterious sickness.
Unfortunately, I am going to survive. M"

     What irritates me is that people are saying things like "enjoy the publicity", "you're lying", etc, as Manson himself would say. I find it interesting that people of such ignorance enjoy his music right alongside me (I wouldn't doubt that the person I fought at Mayhem Festival was one of these people), but perhaps he's aware of that. The fact that he recognized it as "Swine Flu" instead of the correct name, "H1N1", hints that he knows some of his fans might not be the brightest. Some would probably wonder what H1N1 even was, therefore making it pointless to even call it that, except for the sake of being correct. However, maybe he chose to say Swine Flu so the following joke would make sense and evoke laughter, but who knows.

     Moving on, why is it so unbelievable for a celebrity to get H1N1? If anything, they have a higher risk of contracting the virus than you or I. Every time they step out of their front door they're bombarded by throngs of fans and click-happy paparazzi, only to be followed wherever they choose to go. (I'm a little surprised there's not pictures out of Manson going to the specific doctor he mentions, but maybe that will show up in this week's magazine line-up.) Do you see these famous faces covered by masks? Sure don't, at least I haven't--and a lot of gossip magazines make their way through my house.

     Personally, I believe the chances are higher for a musical artist to get the virus as opposed to an actor, especially if they're on tour. Imagine all of the hands they touch during their set, or all of the fans that touch them just in passing to and from tour buses and what-not? What about all the people breathing or coughing in the general admission section of the venue, so close to the singer? Consider closed venues for a moment, where the infected air cannot even escape into the outside air, only to be inhaled repeatedly? The possibilities of getting the virus are basically endless, so it's shocking that he's the only--reported--star to fall ill so far.

     To argue my point further, the day of Mayhem Festival was my first contagious day with H1N1. (You're contagious a day before and up to seven days after your first "sick day".) I could have almost touched him I was so close, so it's very possible I'm the one that gave it to him. Highly unlikely because that was over a month ago, but you get my point. I don't believe I was the only person to attend one of his shows that was contagious with the virus, some not even knowing like me.

     So Marilyn Manson, I believe you, and I'm glad you're going to survive, because the world needs people like us to survive. Take care of yourself, because even a month later it's affecting me to the extreme that I was hospitalized. Get well soon! xo

Thank you's are given when—not where—they are due, for my fear withholds me

     There are so many things I want to quote from you. Some things I know by heart from when you had personally told me, and some things I can't even understand because you laced it with so much bullshit. You make things impossible for the world to comprehend, but I've realized they're not. You make them difficult beyond attemptable measures, and I respect you so much for that.

     Deep within my mind I believe it all truly means something. Like the word of a prophet your visions have all come true.

     Why didn't you teach me about guilt and regret?

     I miss the way you were, the way we were. It shocks me to reminiscence in what we shared. Thank you for teaching me more about life than anyone else has tried.

77 Keys To Living Well Before You Die: #62

62. Learn to say no.

(From http://www.marcandangel.com/2008/09/19/77-keys-to-living-well-before-you-die/)

     I have a hard time with this one when it comes to boys. Not to the extreme that I've ever been date raped or anything even remotely similar to that, but just little things that I really should say no to. If a cute guy is pestering me, why can't I just tell him to buzz off? If i weren't attracted to him, I'd be abrasive about telling him to get lost, or else.

     Why do girls let cute guys treat them like the dirt beneath their feet? Like we're here for their amusement, when it's not supposed to be that way either way you turn the table. Women aren't here for the amusement of men, and men aren't here for the amusement of women. Commonly, women these days believe the latter to be true and live it out by drinking martinis in trendy NYC bars, but that's just a weak way of trying to conquer what men believe they have the right to do. Hence why most women that believe and act that way are single, with no man in future sight.

     To successfully conquer what seems to be a man's natural instinct, mutual respect should be established between a man and a woman in any kind of relationship they may share, even a friendship. Sometimes one of the two can go too far—like I said prior—it could be either sex.

     Personally, I really need to learn how to demand a little respect. The respect I deserve, at the very least. I need to learn how to just say no before I never learn how.

Shopping Expedition Part 2

     Finally the weekend came for round two of shopping for bright, new clothes! If you've read entries Life Redecoration and Shopping Expedition Part 1, you know that I desperately need new clothes. Even my dad admitted today a lot of my clothes are out of style. On a normal day I wear jeans, skater shoes or sandals (usually the latter lately), and a black Marilyn Manson t-shirt that I swim in they're all so big. Um, ew? What seventeen year old girl walks around wearing that and gets a date or a head turn? Oh right, hardly any, and if you have you're really either lucky or really gorgeous as it is. Don't get me wrong though, attracting attention from your sexual preference isn't all that matters when you pick out your wardrobe, but my dark clothes have definitely been dragging me down with them into the depths of darkness.

     Yesterday my dad and I left for the Florida mall once again, and went to lunch at Buca Di Beppo before we went shopping. However, in the middle of our lunch, I inquired casually, "Did you bring the coupons?" Famous last words of our "shopping trip" that day. I really wanted to use my coupons, so we just went and saw Inglourious Basterds downtown at the Plaza Cafe because he hadn't seen it yet and I didn't mind seeing it again.

     Today I woke up fairly early to my mom calling me to tell me that she felt well enough to go shopping. Surprised, I rolled out of bed enthusiastically to get ready, and then my dad and I left. I also took my Adderall this morning, which completely changed my attitude and energy today I thought. We headed to the Florida mall again for round three in the past week, and went directly into Aeropostale without stopping at any other store—okay, maybe just one.

     The first thing we tried to purchase was the jacket I've been admiring for a month now. Unfortunately, the employees hassled my dad about the coupon from Seventeen that he was trying to use, which clearly states that it's valid for items up to $59.95 after they have been marked down by the store. Originally the jacket is $99.95, and they were too dumb to understand the complex wording of the coupon's fine print, so I didn't get the jacket. I wasn't upset about it at all though, I had already picked out what I would get instead if the jacket weren't meant to be mine. My dad was actually angrier than I was, at one point saying quite loudly for the store employee's to hear him, "Today is the last day Aeropostale gets my money!" In an appropriate tone, I talked him down by saying that it's not the corporation's fault that they hired a dumb employee, and then later on shouting at him to "SMIZE THROUGH IT!", which got a few ladies looking in my direction. Not sure if they got the reference, but if you did ten awesome points for you!

      So anyway, I tried on a ton of shirts, sweaters, and dresses. Some were very flattering, some weren't. (Some white shirts just show off too much of the goods underneath.) The dress I tried on was personally a little daring although lovely—a short knitted ensemble—but I wouldn't wear it unless I had heels to go with it, so I didn't get it. My dad said it looked very nice on me though, which boosted my confidence a little knowing that he didn't think I looked like a hooker or anything. Anyway, here are pictures of what my wonderful dad did end up getting me. :)

     Two of the shirts that I got—ironically one of them being my favorite out of the bunch—aren't listed on the website so there's no pictures of them shown here. I couldn't find photos of them anywhere else on the web either, which stinks. I promise you though, they're adorable! Haha. I might have a private fashion show tomorrow in the privacy of my room, so I might post pictures of that if it actually happens.

     The striped grey and black sweater—the last picture shown—I am absolutely in love with. It's a "boob sweater", but I'll be respectful of my body any time I wear it and wear a cami underneath, don't worry. Regardless, I can't wait to rock it out, it's so cute and girly. I've wanted a sweater like that for as long as I can remember and I finally got one! I really didn't expect my dad to say it was okay to get it—plus two more shirts.. my dad rocks, really—he really didn't have to. I'm really happy with all the tops I got, my dad got me more than I expected and I'm really grateful. I must have thanked him ten times at least in the car on the way to meet my mom.

     Due to the jacket fiasco, my mom and I went to another Aeropostale at the Pr1me Outlets. I knew she would fight to the death to get my jacket for the coupon price, she's excellent at arguing a point and has absolutely no shame in getting loud. I'm like that too too, but I'm a little shy when it comes to stuff like arguing with employees of a business, something I really need to mature past. At least I recognize it as an issue though, which is a step, although tiny. Anyway, we went in and looked around, she got some jackets and sleeping pants, and we got my jacket. Headed up to the register, and they didn't even hassle us at all. Go figure, right? The only problem was the girl had to ask the manager if it was considered a "hoodie", and thankfully she was intelligent enough to understand the fine print. So here it is world...

     The cutest jacket I've ever owned! I live in Florida and this is completely lined in faux fur, but hey, let me live my dream of having a furry jacket at some point in my life, haha. I enjoy looking like an eskimo. :) I still don't feel like I deserved any of this (because I don't), but I suppose all I can do is be grateful and smize through it. :|

An unwelcomed ex floats back into my life..

I could write about some cool stuff right now, but I need photos to write about those things otherwise it'd be really boring. I'm way too lazy to use my own laptop, and definitely way too lazy to import pictures from my camera onto my own laptop. That's all too much effort at 2:30 AM, so I'll tell you a funny story about my first serious boyfriend.

For years he's dropped off the face of the Earth. I only saw him once after we broke up, and that was when we finally exchanged belongings a year after the seperation. No one's friends with him that's worth mentioning, no one talks to him that I know of (and I know pretty much everyone in my city's scene), and he never goes out, at least to the places I go which is pretty much everywhere worth going to in Orlando. (Except for shows, but if you're a show whore you're lame anyway.) It's pretty weird, but what do I care, right? I don't, I just think it's funny to think about sometimes.

So today I'm sitting in the movies and I get a Myspace message on my Blackberry. You can see where this is going.

"hey uhh..... you still have my Zelda game for camecube. and i have one of your games that i found in the case for Zelda. so i was wondering if it would be possible for me to stop by sometime and get that."

What the hell? How random is that? Considering all the things we, um, "shared", I think a "How are you?" is at the very least mandatory if we are to speak to each other ever again. Then again though, he did cheat on me with another girl, so that shows you how much respect he really has for me.

To be completely honest, I don't remember having any game of his, otherwise I would have returned it when I returned his ring and Metalocalypse DVD. It's not like I'm hoarding things from ex's for fun memories or anything creepy like that. Plus, even if I did have it, does he really deserve it back? Nope. Does he even need it back? Nah. He's going to be nineteen next month, he should be more worried about a future, not a video game. That's not me just targeting him, that's as a generalization for anyone that's eighteen, almost nineteen. It's time to grow up and stop being a kid, stop being petty over dumb things like video games that can easily be replaced anyway. Life is not just fun and games.

"Nah, think you've gotten enough from me, plus I have no idea what you're talking about or where something like that would even be."

He didn't like that response of course, so he dealt with it with as much maturity he's capable of: he told me okay, that it didn't matter, and to have fun drowning in my own ego. If it doesn't matter, why did you create a Myspace just to pester me over it, only to delete your new page minutes later? Ego? An ego is created by others putting you on a pedestal, I cannot control what other people do with their idea of me. Self esteem is what I can control, and that I lack. So asshole, I won't be drowning. I'm not a great swimmer, but I know how to float~.

(Me and my brother on vacation.)

I can check "riding in an ambulance" off my list of things to do before I turn 18..

     I've been justifying not writing this by the throbbing pain and soreness in my right arm where the IV was for six hours Thursday night. Even at this moment I truly feel like that day was a dream, and not real in any way shape or form. Not even in the way that's a joke, like "haha it was so crazy it was like a dream", but I seriously still don't feel like myself. I think it has a lot to do with the new coping mechanisms I've developed, that I haven't had the opportunity to experience since I've been clean from self mutilation. The new being very detached, almost like anything traumatic is lived through as if it were an out-of-body experience. 

     I'm sure we could all figure out how I used to cope. I'd much rather things feel like a dream than feel even more pain from a cut on my arm. (Why did it take me so long to come to that realization?) I was in the hospital for three-four hours before I remembered that I have scars on my arms, and that everyone could see them. It didn't cross my mind once that they'd lock me away upon seeing them, which is a huge step for me. One of my biggest fears involving my addiction has always been the fear of being locked away again.

     So on to my story. Thursday was a pretty "normal" day I suppose. I stayed at my mom's the night prior because she had to go to the doctor's for a form of spinal surgery Thursday morning, which was really needles being poked into her spine much like an epidural. My aunt Stacey and I took her, and the procedure was supposed to take two hours, but thankfully we were only there for about forty-five minutes which was pretty darn cool. Not that we would have been bored, Stacey brought her DS and had a Scrabble game for it which was amazing. I so want that game! I'm a huge Scrabble lover, as if that weren't obvious.

     My mom felt well enough, so we went to go get lunch at Little Saigon, aka "Noodle Hut". I only ate a third of my bowl (more on why that's important later), and I saved the rest for dinner. After lunch Stacey drove us back to my mom's, and then she went home. Steph (my mom) and I sat on the couch and hung out for a while watching TV and chatting, then she ended up taking a nap. At 6 PM my dad picked me up from her house and we went to Walgreens to pick up some things, and pulled up in front of our house around 6:30 PM.

     That's when it began. I was sitting completely still in the car, then all of a sudden a sharp pain exlodes in my chest, right where my heart is. I shouted out in pain from quite possibly the second worst thing I've ever felt in my entire life—sinus migraine being the worst thing I have ever experienced, my head felt like it was going to literally explode from within—but I thought it would pass sort of like a muscle spasm or something. I kept my hands clenched over my chest, but then it happened again, and then again. Breathing made it feel like my ribs were going to crack from the pressure of my lungs pressing against them, which already felt like there wasn't enough room in them for a deep inhale—not that I dared try.

     After the first jolt of intense pain my dad asked if he should call 911 and I said no, but after the second I told him we should just drive to the hospital because it obviously wasn't going away. He started driving towards the fire station—its a lot closer than any hospital, which are all twenty minutes or more away—with 911 on the phone as I tried to get ahold of my mom, but I couldn't. (In the midst of all this, I had one or two more "jolts" of pain.) The 911 operator told him to pull over as soon as he could, so we pulled over in a church parking lot only a few streets away from my house, which was very weird. I've passed this lot thousands of times in the six years I've lived in Orlando, and never once did the idea cross my mind on what might happen there one day.

     The fire truck pulled up and got me out of the car and onto the ground leaning against it for support. They plugged me up to some machines and then the worst part came—the IV. I am absolutely terrified of IVs—not to be mistaken with needles like a shot, but IVs—because of past experiences. The needle going in wasn't as bad as it was the last time I was in the hospital, which took six times in total before they got it right. This time it only took the paramedics one try, thankfully and surprisingly because I have zero visible veins in my left arm, and only a single very faint one in my right. They put water in immediately after which wasn't that bad, despite my dad saying "It might feel cold!" (it wasn't), knowing I was terrified and probably didn't want to know that. Really. I could have lived the rest of my life and been okay with not knowing they had put anything into my vein.

IV in, the paramedics said the "A" word, which probably is what sent me into "time to cope" mode. An ambulance pulled up next and they put me on the stretcher—or did I get on it myself?— and put me in the back. This taught me something very valuable, which I will remember for any hospital visit I ever have to endure in my life. The lesson I learned is that when you're in an emergency, you have no shame. Absolutely none. Pretty sure this goes for child birth too, which is why I'd imagine it seems to hardly phase expectant mothers that their legs are spread eagel for hours at a time during labor. So back to my story, the paramedic in the back of the ambulance with me pulled up my entire shirt way above my bra to stick some monitor things over my heart, and trust me no boy has ever, ever! seen me like this before. I am not the type of girl to float around with no clothes on for eyes other than my own to see. With this experience though, it didn't phase me, not one bit. For one I was terrified, and two.. well, I don't have a two, but the message I'm trying to carry to you is that if you're like me and scared about baring all for hospitals in an emergency, trust me, you won't care in the moment, and you won't after either. A looot of people saw my lady-bits up top that day, and I could care less.

     Once they were done plugging me up to machines and putting an oxygen thing around my face, we were off. My dad followed behind us, which was comforting. For the duration of the ride I could see him at all times through the little windows in the back of the ambulance. For some reason though, the driver took the worst possible road, all brick, so it was a very painful ride. The paramedic in the back with me even yelled at the driver over it, and told him next time to take a different road. (Which creeped me out and got very depressing throughts churning through my brain.. how many people had died on this same stretcher? Or in this same ambulance? How many people will die on this stretcher, or in this same ambulance?) Once we got to the hospital (a children's hospital, funnily enough), they took me out and rolled me into a room in the ER, and my dad showed up a few minutes later after he parked.

     They asked me a ton of questions, restarted my oxygen, and plugged me back into all these machines plus some. They really treated me as if I were on drugs and this were my fault, one woman even asking, "I know your dad is here, but have you done drugs or had any alcohol today?" I quickly retorted with as much attitude as I could muster, "No, and I go to NA meetings every single week." Needless to say, that was the last time they asked me about drugs or drinking, but they still made me take a urine test for "just some tests". Pfft, yeah right. As far as I know the only thing they take urine samples for is drug tests and pregnancy tests. For the latter—you have to have sex to get pregnant.

     Their obvious judgments really hurt my feelings even though I knew I couldn't control what they thought. I knew that all these doctors and nurses just saw a seventeen year old girl with piercings, dark hair, and chest pains. They also knew I started taking a stronger form of Adderall this week—which is why my dad and I freaked out in the first place, because one of the side effects is sudden death, alongside with heart attacks—so they probably thought I abused it. I wish I had a dollar for every time they mentioned me taking Adderall, I'd be a very rich lady.

     A while after the urine test—by the way, pissing on your own hand trying to "catch" something really humbles you—I got a chest x-ray which kind of hurt. (Is that even possible? It felt like an extremely faint electric shock.) They did finally take blood too, which is the absolute worst part of the IV experience for me. I can literally feel the blood being sucked from my veins, the feeling is so horrible I cannot even put it into words appropriate enough to describe it. They used some machine too I think—I wasn't looking, of course—which made a horrific sound that made me want to cry. I also don't understand why I always get a real nurse, and then a nurse in training that uses my arm for learning things she should already know. Why do these people get degrees if they don't know how to even take blood!? Can't they practice on dead bodies, or simulated bodies? Regardless, you nurses in training, take blood from kids that are already screaming and completely unaware because they're already drowning in exaggerated emotions. Not me.

     Hours later they cleared me and told me I could leave, which really means they couldn't figure out what was wrong and since I wasn't dying they gave up. However, while we were waiting inside the room I overheard them talking about me and the nurses speculating over "some sort of heart attack, maybe", but obviously that didn't happen or I wouldn't be typing this right now from home. The doctors told me personally that it could be a later effect of having had H1N1/Swine Flu, which I believe is very likely (and scary). Funnily enough they forgot about my IV, and were going to just let me walk out with it still in my arm. My dad had to stop the nurse to get her to take it out, and when she did she ended up ripping off a layer of my skin which is now lighter than the skin around it.

It's been two days since this all happened, and for some reason I still feel like hell. My body feels like the firetruck hit me that day instead of pulling up to help me, which makes me jokingly—sort of—speculate if I've really been dead these past two days and I'm in a movie-type deal. You know, girl dies but goes on living in the movie until the end when you find out she's really dead, like Ellen Page in An American Crime. (Sorry if I spoiled that for anybody, but if you haven't seen it yet, that's a crime.) Of course we all know that isn't true, but wouldn't that be something to blog about?

I haven't started taking my Adderall again yet. I was going to today, but I left the house having forgotten to take it before I left, besides it was too late in the day to anyway considering this new Adderall I'm taking lasts for twelve hours. I will probably start tomorrow so I'm active and alive to shop for more clothes, or Monday, when I am going to force myself back into reality.. hopefully. I really don't understand why this entire experience has taken so much out of me.

     Oh! About the food I saved from Little Saigon, while we were in the hospital my dad went out to the car to get my purse. He took a long time, and later on I found out he went out into the car and ate my left overs too! Haha. I was really upset about it.

Dear blogging world,

     I've tried so hard for the two and a half hours I've been home tonight to do some "recreational blog reading", aka, reading about things that aren't really a part of my bigger picture like husbands, children, and crafts. Usually I feel guilty doing things that aren't exactly productive (see: reading blogs on cooking/baking, but I suppose in a sense that is sort of productive if I do cook it for my family), but I decided I would take tonight for myself and read some fun blogs that I really enjoy.

     The problem is I cried for an hour or so tonight. I haven't posted my blog about it yet, but I spent six hours of last night in the hospital, and it was extremely traumatic for me. I hadn't completely "released" over the stress of it, and since there's nothing I can do these days but cry for a release, I knew it was coming soon. However, someone in my family decided to take my physical weakness from the hospital ordeal and frustration at my biological mother's guilt trips and turn it into "have you noticed you get cranky and get upset easier at night?" Can I have a "what the fuck" please? (Cue crying.) I feel like for as long as I shall live, the people that know I used to self mutilate—and were there to witness it—will constantly judge my actions. Unfortunately the majority of these people are my close relatives. You can see why it would hurt and bring tears to my eyes. I wish people would just realize that I am not the same person I was over two years ago, but from the sounds and stories from other addicts experiencing the same situation, it could be years, if ever, before people trust me again which is extremely upsetting. I know my wrongs, but please accept my redemption.

     So blogging world, while I would love to sit here and read you, my eyes are stinging just from being open and burning from trying to read anything longer than the length of an incomplete sentence. Editing this to be post-worthy will be painful, but I must do it or I'll regret it tomorrow.

     I think I'll bake cookies in the morning.

Taylor Swift: An American, an inspiration, & a princess

This has nothing to do with what went down the other night at the VMA's with Kayne's jackass, first of all. For a long time I've liked Taylor Swift, and like the rest of the world was swept up by her sweet, American girl self. She seems so normal, and I've never said that about a celebrity before and actually meant it.

I remember reading Rolling Stone, Seventeen, etc, and just being mesmerized by how ridiculously kind-hearted she is. She's so much like a "princess", but without the diva aspect of it that girl's of my generation have adopted. So many girls these days claim they're "princesses", but really a majority of them are just spoiled brats and want everything handed to them on a silver platter. Check out a princess movie girls, real princesses aren't rude Miss. Priss's, they're adorable, polite, and wonderfully nice. Also, by adorable I do not mean physically attractive. You can be anyone of any shape, look, size, whatever and be adorable. It's all about how you carry yourself!

I will admit that after the VMA scandal I've seen Taylor around the media more, like on TV, the internet, etc, which has sparked my sudden, larger interest in her. Today I checked out her YouTube channel (which is absolutely hilarious) so I could listen to a song of her's that I love, and I saw that she had "vlogs". I was surprised. In them you can really tell how truly kind and deeply genuine she is. I love the video where she pulls cinnamon rolls out of her purse, and her cousin—I think it was her cousin—thought she was weird for carrying them around all day in her purse, haha. I could really relate because that's definitely something I would do. I know she loves to bake too (or at least I think she does), which I've read about before in a magazine, and I love to bake all the time.

If I could choose exactly how I wanted to be in my "perfect life" (I know no one's life is perfect, but perfect compared to mine) I'd want to be just like her. :) You're a true inspiration Taylor to so many young girls, teenage girls, young and old women alike on how to be a proper lady!

The sad thing is..

..is that I cannot afford to get upset because a "certain someone" will freak out on me. God forbid I ever speak my own mind, God forbid I ever open my mouth and tell people how I feel as a release so I don't hurt myself. My intentions aren't to make anyone feel guilty or to say "Hey you, listen to me or I'll cut myself", but if you're talking breaks why don't you throw one my way while you're at it? Depression, anger, and sadness are all a lot harder to deal with when you're carrying around an addiction 24/7—THERE ARE NO BREAKS—that's constantly ready to pop it's head out and start screaming.

It absolutely enrages me when people make comments about me doing "nothing". Last time I checked I'm not just sitting around doing "nothing". While it may seem like it to you because you're a forty-something year old woman/man/alien stuck in a rut of an unproductive life, cut me some slack and remember I'm only seventeen years old. I think I'm entitled to a break once in a while, just like you, but don't be pissed that I'm actually getting one. I can't even buy cigarettes, how can you possibly expect it from me to be saving the world in a red cape? Can we talk about how fair that is? I'm not one of the lucky ones that's been struck with young fame, so there is only so much I can do.

I'm here as a vessel, but I'm not here for you to take out your anger and frustrations on me. I am a PERSON, a human trying to be human so I can show you how to live happier! I'm sacrificing my life so people like you can waste yours on trivial experiences that you don't even appreciate enough to thank me, and others like me. Why do you do this to me? What did I EVER do to you?

You know who you are, and your numbers are more than one.

Edit 09/16/09 6:03PM: Sometimes all it takes is for my sponsor to listen to me like no one else will to save my day.

No relapse exists here. 

I miss you Vincent.

While re-posting some of the older things I've written, I came across something I wrote the night Vincent passed away. I don't know why I thought I could handle rereading it so I could edit any mistakes. I couldn't. I'm still crying.

Looking back at photographs of him, I'm realizing how malnourished he really was, and the guilt—that I thought was gone—is rushing back to the pit of my stomach. I wish I had a lot of photos of him like I do Pinsky, some of when he was healthier maybe, but sadly I don't. (I got a camera towards the end of his life, so I didn't have the ability to take many pictures.) I guess that longing is more so a selfish one though. In the back of my mind I'm thinking that if I see pictures of Vinny when he was happier and healthier, I won't feel so guilty for how badly he got before he passed. Unfortunately the only memories and mental visions I have of him are of him being as thin as a #2 pencil, literally.

My heart is breaking all over again. I really miss him. I wish he could be here right now with Pinsky. It'd be a dream come true for them both to be here for me to love.

Please don't get me wrong, I would never give up Pinsky if it meant that Vincent would magically come back as a ghost gecko. However, I cannot help but miss Vincent. You have to understand that he was the first gecko I've ever had. I don't love one more than the other, but they both were/are so drastically different in various ways that I love them in different ways. Regardless, my love for them is love, and that's something that will never die.


(The first photograph is of Vincent, while the second is of Pinsky when he was a baby.)

9/11 & Current Events

I got to thinking about how I should comment on current events regularly on COSA18 to create a "time stamp" of sorts if it's ever read years later. I personally would think it'd be neat to read COSA18 five years from now and say upon reading an entry about a certain musical artist, "Oh yeah, I remember the 46th time Kanye West was an asshole!" You catch my drift, I'd imagine. I'm not going to talk about him right now though, except for the fact that I think it's really awesome that Obama called him a jackass. (Like Chelsea Handler said, I wonder if he'll retort with "President Obama hates black people!")

What I do want to talk about though, is September 11th. I didn't blog about it this past Friday, when I should have. For weeks prior to the anniversary, it was on my mind. Throughout the actual day I prayed for the people that lost their lives and those that are blessed to still be with us. I think a lot of us forget about the people that survived, who are still suffering from the terrorist attack eight years ago. At least those that died that day (or shortly after) are at peace now.

I wish 9/11 had never happened, but there's nothing that will ever change that. I'd like to believe that it's made our country stronger, and more unified, but I don't really know. The most important thing is to never forget what happened, and what we all endured that day as Americans.

If you're curious...
I was at school on September 11th, 2001, and in the fourth grade. I remember coming back to my homeroom from another class and passing the TV that was on, which was unusual, but I didn't think much of it.

In passing, I saw burning buildings and assumed a building was on fire downtown (I lived in Tampa, which has decently-sized buildings). I didn't give it a second thought, but then, as you know, things got serious. Kids started getting picked up by their parents, my teacher started crying, announcements over the intercom echoed throughout the school at fifteen minute intervals about things I can't even recall. The adults around me were starting to panic because we all lived and were currently located so close to a military base, and us kids didn't know what was even happening.

I don't remember seeing the second plane crash into the towers on the television. It might had already happened by the time I walked into homeroom, or I could have just missed it.

I also wasn't one of the kids that got picked up. I didn't know for the entire day what had happened, and I don't even remember how and when it was explained to me later on, if it even was that day. Honestly I don't even remember the moment I found out what really happened.

Still to this day, eight years later, I watch specials on TV about the tragedy and breathlessly whisper by reflex, "Oh my god," when I see those planes enter the buildings that they did. I cannot hold in my words expressing my shock, and I cannot hold back my tears.

Tonight I think I'll light a white candle for a while, in memory of everything that happened that day. I remember my biological mother lighting white candles and placing them in the window at some point after 9/11. I wonder if people still do that all these years later? Do you?

Riding in cars with boys.

     Okay, not really. I do love that movie though, and it was the first movie I ever watched where I saw a man's penis. Well, it was actually a baby's penis, but I was only nine so I was pretty freaked out, haha. Anyway, this post is about cars. At my age, cars is a pretty common topic. There's always a lot of gossip floating around about who's getting what car, who's not getting a car, who sucks at driving, who's already gotten tickets, who lied about what car they're getting, etc.

     As it stands right now I don't have a permit or license. I know, I'm slacking, but there are reasons as to why I don't. I know how to drive, and I know, a lot of people say that if they don't have a permit or license to make themselves feel better about it. I really do know how to drive though, and pretty well. I'm striving to get my permit by the end of this month.

     When I was fifteen I started the 4-Hour Traffic Law and Substance Abuse Education course, and let it drag on for months. For one, I cannot learn anything from online classes of any kind. It's nearly impossible for me to stay focused on a single window if I'm sitting at a computer. At the time I wasn't yet diagnosed with ADD so my attention span was a lot lower than it is now. I found out just recently that—at least in Florida—you can start this course when you're fourteen and a half, which gives you a great head start. I wish I had known that then because I might have my permit/license now.

     By the time I finally finished the course, I was sixteen. I was told the permit test was "soo easy" and to "not worry", so I barely studied. Barely studied meaning I hardly skimmed over the driver's handbook. I'm sure you can imagine how much that benefit me. I failed the road rules test the two times the DMV let me take it in a single day, but I did pass the signs test which actually was pretty simple (I'd still study though just in case). I was disappointed and humiliated, I haven't taken it since and I'm seventeen.

     Having taken the test, I realize how ridiculously hard it is. It's taken me a year to convince my dad that it really is difficult, because the test is a test on wording and grammar—which you'd think I'd excel at, but I don't here—and not on actual driving. It doesn't make logical sense to me why the DMV would construct a test like this. I would expect the permit test to be written in a very simple style of writing on the rules of driving. I'd imagine it to be easy to understand, but still possible to fail if you don't know the rules of driving—which is what should matter.

     Driving may not seem important right now, but later on it will be, trust me. I know that while you're fourteen, fifteen, and even sixteen it can seem like you'll never get a car or your friends never will. I know for me, that once I neared the end of my sixteenth year a lot of my friends started popping up with cars, and if I had gotten my permit and license like they did, I'd probably have a car now too.

     For my first car, I want a Nissan Cube. It's adorable, small, and relatively cheap. Don't get me wrong, I have no shame in driving a "beater" at all. A car is a car. If it's got wheels that turn, awesome. (AC might be a necessity though, since I live in Florida, haha.) The reason I want a new car from a dealer isn't a materialistic one, it's because I want reliability in a vehicle. By the time I finally get a car of any kind, I'll be in college and I'll have a job—both of which I can't afford to be late to. Breaking down on the side of the road isn't exactly a thought I want lingering in the back of my mind, especially the idea of paying for repairs on a piece of crap that will break down again in another two months. I've witnessed a friend buy a car for 2,000 dollars and put 9,000 more into it before it finally died completely and she got another car. Granted, putting that much money into a car that was so cheap to begin with was stupid, but still the thought of that happening to me horrifies me. I can foresee my anxiety sky-rocketing if something like that were to ever happen to me, and that scares me even more. I'll already be so stressed out from college and work, I won't have any room left in my brain to worry about a silly car. If I can afford it, I'd much rather pay a few hundred a month for the comfort of knowing that if my car does break down, I can bring it back to the dealer for it to be immediately fixed.

So that's my car story. What's yours?

For fun, here's some of the car's I really admire.

     First off, the Nissan Cube, which is fairly new. I think there's only 2009-2010, but I could be wrong. I love everything about this car. It's original, it's tiny, it's unique. It has a wrap around window on the right side, basically eliminating a right blind spot (I'd have to drive one to see if that's true though). It's size is great too, driving my mom's huge Honda Accord made me realize I want a car that's as small as possible (for right now). If I were to get one, I'd want to pimp it out to resemble a Companion Cube from the game Portal by getting pink hearts painted on the doors and roof, and by getting a tag for the front of the car that says "Companion" in a cute pink font. (Part of the car's design is that the back bumper says "Cube". Get it, "Companion, Cube"?) The Nissan Cube (not sure on the year) can range in price from around $13,990 - $19,370.

     I don't know why, but I love Dodge Chargers and I don't even know much about them. Only in black though! In any other color I think they're hideous, especially that "Dodge Blue" color. While the color's unique, just not my thing. I also really like the Dodge Challenger. If I had my way, this would be my second car, my "fresh out of college" car. I'm sure by then though I'll have my eyes on something else. The Charger (2010) ranges in price from around $24,835 - $39,195 while the Challenger (2010) ranges in price from around $22,220 - $41,170.

     Now for my dream car, the Maserati GranTurismo. This car is absolutely gorgeous (especially in white!), and I should not like a car this nice at my young age. Unfortunately, my dad turned me into a huge car enthusiast—in my opinion, at least—as opposed to the typical teen just "interested in nice cars". Ordinarily, a person my age would look at BMW's and Mecerdes's with an envious eye, but nope, not me. Ironically I go straight for the Italian cars—I'm half Italian—that cost tons of money. I love that this car is feminine—like the rest of the Maserati line—yet fierce in a manly way at the same time. This car screams at me "successful, independent woman", which is exactly what I want to be. I want people to know I have a nice car because I paid for it myself, not my rich boyfriend/husband. Stepping out of this hot ride in a nice business suit will definitely give off the right impression! One day, Maserati, one day.. The Maserati GranTurismo (2010) ranges in price from an estimated $117,500 - $121,500. Not too shabby! It's not that ridiculously expensive that it'd be impossible for me to own one one day. :D