Welcome to my other blog. I started this one shortly after graduating from the C.I.A, to differentiate between my food and my other thoughts. It's a cozy little place with frequent weird but real, honest thoughts.

There's really not much more to say here, as anything mildly interesting is either down below or written in my Armadillo section above.
Hope you can relate to some of my thoughts and situations, even if they tend to be strange sometimes

Friday, March 27, 2009

Chop Suey part two.

Not sure what I feel like writing about right now. Just going to let things flow, and to hell with any kind of structure or anything being witty.


I'm not going to lie to you, I feel like drinking. I'm sitting here, on a Friday night, with the "Complete Symphonic Recording" of Les Mis playing. So I feel depressed and a need to drink a wee bit buzzed.

So I've decided to crack open a Harp, and just let things flow for a bit. What do you care? You don't read this, anyway.

..........I'm not sure what you're waiting for. Right now I feel the need to be in a musical. "I am a-GOG, I am a-GAST, has Marius seen love at last? I've never heard him ooh and ahh! You talk of battles to be won, and here he comes like Don ju-an, it's better than an o-pe-ra!"

Les Miserables is a seriously amazing show. You really must see it. The music is INCREDIBLE. ""Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men, it is the music of the people who will not be slaves again. When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomarrow comes."

But right now, I feel deeply lonley. I miss Matthew, who may as well be on the other side of the country for what good it does me.

"The city goes to bed, and I can live inside my head." I think I live in my head too much. It's a defense mechinasm. I have a lot of those. Growing up, especially, especially in Middle school, I had an incredibly rough time (but readers of my blog would know that already) So I retreated to the one safe place I felt that I had: my mind. I lived in a world that was different from the one I had. I was happier in my mind than I was anywhere else.

I've never actually admitted this to anyone, not seriously at least. I once teased Matt, I said "in the world my head, you don't even exist!"

This makes me feel crazy. But I just finished my beer, and I'm feeling a little ballsy. But I lived in my head. Alot. I had this other world, where I had friends, I was accepted and understood. I lived the life I always wish I did. I guess I was just lonely growing up. Even though I rarely let them see that. I read a lot of books, so it just kind of took off from there.

So this song, "On My Own" from Les Mis, is especially fitting. "All my life, I've only been pretending". I lived in a world of make believe. I built up a wall, I remember sitting in math class, pretending I didn't hear the scrawny little immigrant kid insult me in probably the only words in English he knew, as I drew doodles and doodles in my notebook, pretending I wasn't as lonely, or hurt, or outcasted as I really felt. I acted invisible. I was invisible to everyone else. I was only visible when they needed to attack someone.

I really hope that kid is deported by now.... Sorry, that was mean. (But probably true).

"The world is full of happiness that I have never known." Well, that last line isn't actually true for me anymore. I'm with someone who genuinely makes me feel happy, and right now he isn't here, so this song makes me feel sadder and lonely than I probably should feel right now.

Anyway, sooner or later I realized things would be different. Someday I'd have someone who'd like me for who I was, so why bother being someone I wasn't?

And they are. So I'm trying really hard to shed that part of my past and just be happy. But as you can see, this stuff runs deep. And it haunts my posts and my mind, making me feel weird and different and paranoid. Like I'm being judged and laughed at. Old habits die hard, but I was hoping I'd have shed them by now.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Just another day, stuck in a tube.

Had an MRI today. Which I'm more or less okay with. It's been a year and a half since I had one, and the paranoia of what could be wrong with me has settled in the past 6 months, so I finally was able to convince my Neurologist that it was time for another. (also, for a week, my toes had been tingly, once a day, for about 30 seconds, so that was enough to convince her, apparently)

I've been getting MRIs my entire life. When I was younger, I needed to be sedated to be able to get a proper reading. I tried books on tape once, but it didn't work. Now I don't really mind laying there still for an hour or more until it is done. It's kind of cozy. If someone my age or older was getting an MRI for the first time, the enclosed space and grinding and whirring noises may be disconcerting, but to me it has this weird comforting familiar quality to it. It's cozy. My mind drifts in and out of musicals I like, blog posts I'd like to write, I doze, and wiggle my fingers to relieve the urge to move.

My spine is easier to do. I can afford to wiggle my fingers and toes, as the movement wont really reach my spine. But my head is agonizing. I can't hardly move period. But for now, it's just my spine.

Getting an MRI isn't a big deal to me. It's not something I'd bring up in normal conversation, but it's normal. It's not something I get every month or even every 6 months, but it's normal and everyday enough for me to be okay with it and not think anything odd of it at all. Just another day, stuck in a tube.

So I got to the hospital, finally managed to get parked and find my way to the MRI department.

Turns out, I went to the wrong place. Wrong building altogether.

Now, I've been getting MRIs at the same hospital since I was about 2 years old. I remember getting whatever disgusting tasting medicine to put me to sleep and I'd watch Eureka's Castle while waiting for it to kick in. But I knew better. I was too smart for that! I'd fight sleep off. Refusing to let myself fall asleep. Because I knew what would happen. But I'd sooner or later succumb to the syrup (which, at the moment. I remember the taste as strongly as if I just took it. My stomach feels queasy at the very thought), and fall asleep and I'd wake up groggy some time later.

But they made a call and sent me on my way to the proper place. When I got there, I felt like I was in the wrong place. But I went in, and found the department. I apologized for being mixed up and I filled out the same old paperwork. When it asked why I was getting an MRI, I filled in "NF1" with no hesitation or anything. And it felt good. I was actually acknowledging I had this thing.
The Technician took me and sat me down, asking questions, like why I was getting this, how long have I had (or known I had) Nf, and what symptoms I had, how frequent, and such. I told her "NF1. 6 weeks. Mris since age 2. Infrequent nerve pain and recent tinglyness in my feet." It was so weird. When I used to be asked about NF, I'd be so overwhelmed with unexplainable upset that I wanted to cry and I'd get nervous. Now it was no big deal. It was so refreshing to embrace this.

She went over the MRI stuff; keeping still, the contrast shot that I wouldn't need. But I'd heard this laying still thing a thousand times. I'm quite good at it.

I finally got into the little tube with ear plugs and I was put in. My New NF friend had reminded me that music was usually a good option, but I never use it. I have incredibly bad music ADD. I rarely listen to the whole song right to the end. Sometimes I'll skip to the next song midway. Usually I skip to the next song right before it ends. I think it's a control issue. I think I like being in control of my ipod and other things because growing up I had no control over my NF, my medication, doctors appointments and humiliating children hospital visits. So I was bossy growing up and now I like to be in control of my Ipod (it drives Matthew crazy)

The usual whirrls and clanks and scanner noises were loud, but not annoying. It kept me still and put me in this groggy daze. Loud, annoyingish white noise. Sooner or later you start to hear the sounds within the sounds. The tap-tap-tapping within the "Brrrt, brrrt, brrrts" and "taankstaankstaanks." And if you go really crazy, you start to hear the noises turn into words.

I drifted in and out of my head. Thinking about this post and half forgotten songs from "Newsies" ("That's my cigar!" "You'll steal anudder!" "Hey bummers we got work ta do!" Oh God, stop me right now.)
I also kept my eyes closed, to try and doze. But I also ended up thinking about how small this thing was. Could a person weighing even ten pounds more than myself fit in here? What about severely overweight people? I felt like I was barely contained in this tiny thing.

I was done. I asked the Technician how long I'd been there, because I felt the usual grogginess. She told me "You were in there a long time! Forty-five minutes!" She said. To which I replied that that wasn't too bad. I wanted to tell her I'd been in an MRI for over two hours before, but I didn't. Forty-five minutes wasn't long at all. It's almost a whole episode of "Real Housewives of New York City" or the time it takes to bake an apple pie. 45 minutes was nothing to me.

When I was done with the MRI, I considered what I wanted for lunch. I was craving a hamburger and vanilla milkshake from Friendly's. When I was little, my mother would bribe us to do things with food. For my MRIs it was Friendly's. For my brother's haircuts, it was mousse cups from a bakery. I remember one MRI where I wanted a milkshake and the Grandmotherly looking waitress brought me a gigantic adult sized milkshake and I couldn't fathom the size, or why she'd brought it.

Instead, I went to Trader Joes to pick up some stuff for dinner. I saw the not-so-common chocolate Joe-Joes (Trader Joe's Oreos) and grabbed a box. A little, psychological treat for myself for being so good. It's funny I did that. That at 23, I still craved a little something for good behavior.

I'll get the results from my Doctor in about three days. We'll see what happens. But to me, it was just another day. Stuck in a tube.