When I am old and unhappy,

sitting alone in a stuffy bed

I will think back to these days and know

there was once a place I truly belonged

and

when he held my hand,

We ruled the world.

My body is a temple, a dirty, sexy temple, and it should be treated as such. Therefore- buying my own condoms.

Getting a nose ring at the age of 22 is most definitely frivolous, impractical and immature, and it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. Especially since my ex-boyfriend happened to be the person walking past the tattoo parlor as I came out and therefore, was the first to see it. It’s like man magic.

Extreme jealously, rage, hooooorny! and ‘I swear to God, I will kill you in your sleep’ are all still options among my Range of Emotions. They did not disappear or go anywhere, as was previously thought.

Four different dates. Three different men. One day. Very, very possible. Enough said.

Beer pong is actually fun, and I’m pretty good at it. It is especially awesome when cute boys argue over who gets to be your partner.

Can now throw a temper tantrum like a proper adult, innocent bystander boyfriends no longer necessary.

You can have your cake and eat it, too. It can even be oh-so-very-delicious cake. However, it will come back to bite you in the ass oh-so-very-deliciously hard.

George Thorogood + bar alone + Djarum Cherries = BAD

Speaking of math, I can do it now. Physics, too. Teaching it next quarter, actually.

Don’t ask questions you don’t want to find the answers to.

The time spent being Single these past 6-9ish months has been crazy, but in the best way possible. I knew it was a good thing, even when I thought it was going to crush and kill me. I’ve done some brave things, some pathetic things, some fucking stupid reckless things, but I wouldn’t change any of it. Even in the past few months, I feel like I’ve lightened up a lot, gained some adult perspective and can now more effectively deal with my issues and the situations I find myself in. Never have I been so relaxed about school, so at ease with my emotions, had so much insight into everything that’s ever gone wrong for me- is this because I’ve now been given some of that adult wisdom Oprah keeps promising I’ll get as I become older? Or because I just blow off a lot of steam getting trashed and making out with sexy dudes every weekend?

Who cares. I just hope I can keep these lessons, all this perspective and enlightened calm, as I somewhat-nervously journey out of SinglesLand. So……… lass uns gehen

OMG so drunk

i love natty. andomg i went to ledo’s and did not get raped and/or mugged, though some may argue my good sense and typing skills did. whatev. inm seriousoly in love with eveyone and everything right now.  i met some kid who got a masters in Uselessness at UW and made me feel all guilty for not going there- yeah, well, what can you do? if i could go back, i would SO be trahsedin  madison right now, seriously. but i love osu, things turned out well, really well and im still kinda, pretty , def glad im here. football tix next year and bball too YESSSSSSSs

sooooooooooo get this kinder: i totally noticed the dj’s headphones were on backwards (right= red, left=blue); so of course i tell him so and he switches them.

AUDIOLOGY IS SAVING THE WORLD, ONE SET OF HEADPHONES AT A TIME

omg recognize

Please be aware that there is a serious weirdo lurking about your street. This total nerdface has been spotted hanging out on her back porch in a white bathrobe and fuzzy knee-high boots, stirring what appears to be a double-sized batch of cake mix. She has broken free from her hole of an apartment in order to observe the lunar eclipse, which, by the way, is TOTAL, and which, also by the way, will not happen again until December 20th, 2010. Please be advised that this is the type of girl who would also use those glow-in-the-dark stars to recreate northern hemisphere constellations at the age of twelve all over her ceiling, of course using accurate relative star sizes and distances, and yes, using a red star for Betelgeuse and blue for Polaris.

It is imperative to also realize this may be the same girl who walks to class, sticking out her tongue to catch falling snowflakes, while humming “I Know What Boys Like” to herself. She also wears sunglasses over her regular glasses, but seriously, only while driving, mostly. She should most likely be considered a menace to society.

… there has got to be some missing pieces to this story. Seriously, the NHS can’t be that bad.

I’ll be your audiologist, Britain!

Malpractice insurance? $29

Winter quarter tuition? $3,210

Fundamentals of Biostatistics, Sixth Edition? $85

Poking the eardrum of the very first client I ever stuck an otoscope into? Slightly terrifying

Making it on the front page of the shittiest newspaper this campus has ever seen? Priceless

i have the single worst case of tinnitus on earth right now. i think my cochleas are going to explode out of my fucking skull.

this weekend has been amazing- i never thought i could pack so much fun and irresponsibility and greasy food into 36 hours. i have seen so many people, done a lot of things, drank a lot of beer. student? what? i am not a student- i am the coolest, most fun person you’ve ever met, at least for a little while.

exhilarating. except for the tinnitus.

Eff. You. See. Kay. Ell. Ess. You.

We all knew this day was coming, yourself included. I could see the ambulance coming for you a mile away. However, I only say that because I should have seen mine coming for me, too.

I beat you to it by four days (nights), if it makes you feel any better.

You at least get to remember your ambulance ride, got to hear the sirens announcing your arrival to all, got to prove to everyone watching and everyone who knows you that, YES, I feel like hell and here is tangible, third-dimension proof. I do not remember my ride in the ambulance. I have no idea who called, I have no idea at what time, or where exactly I even was. Perhaps I’ll remember when I get the bill.

Britney, I have crumbled inside. I think we both have. Things are lonely right now, no matter who cares or hangs around, because we are human and that is part of the job description. But we have to keep on going, even if there isn’t any noticeable reason for doing so. There doesn’t need to be a reason. We just have to keep on going, for the sake of keeping on going on, because that’s what people do. We have gotten this far. I promise to keep trying if you promise, too.

Cry, Britney, cry good and hard and don’t give a fuck about anyone who may see. A hospital cry is the best cry there is. Let your tears and snot spill out all over you, and if you ever feel like puking, I recommend the same. This is the only time someone else you don’t even know gets to do your laundry. Be extra nice to the nurses and they may give you ice cream when you ask- tell them your throat hurts. Revel in the controlled chaos of hospital existence, and take a well-deserved mental break. Ask for help when you need it. Call your mom- if mine didn’t have a conniption, I can confidently guarantee yours won’t, either.

My therapist wants to work with me on coping mechanisms. But I don’t want coping mechanisms; I want love from all the wrong people. I want answers, I want reasons, I want nirvana. I want deliverance, I want a miracle.  These are things I cannot have, and you can’t have them, either. So coping mechanisms it is. One day at a time, Britney.

Get well soon, kiddo.

On the way home from dinner tonight, I suddenly remembered a dream I had last night; something my dad said triggered the memory, but I can’t remember what he said, only that it was mildly violent in nature and that I was looking at a billboard when he said it. It goes:

I was in this parking lot, I think it was a parking lot, a giant one, the ones you find out in the country off the interstate that are not even paved, only gravel. It was snowy, dirty snowy, and slushy, cold. I was with Dave, and we wandered around, slightly lost, slightly panicked because we needed to go somewhere but couldn’t. Spent a lot of time milling around, seemingly forever like it always feels in dream-time, like there is all this time lost in the middle, until suddenly there was this throng of people around and this guy walked in front of me and looked over his shoulder, right at me- he was wearing a gray flannel, was scraggly and greasy and I knew he was trouble, and that I should stay away from him. However, I also knew I couldn’t, because I/Dave and I needed him to bail our asses out of some situation, whatever that situation, I don’t know. He did- but then, he came over to us, to me, and pulled out this pocket-sized knife, real slow so I could like get a look at it, I guess (like Pagoda in Royal Tenenbaums, which, by the way, was on TV today, and I totally watched with my sister and am so proud to indoctrinate her into the world of Wes Anderson; she is already 14, and it’s time for her life to start feeling dark and artsy-depressing! ha). Anyway, this guy goes to stab me, but I eventually, in this weird calm sort of way, wrestle the knife from him and stab him instead. And!, I just remembered now, I called campus police while dodging and wrestling the knife from this guy, but they told me they were too busy and would send someone out to help me by 5PM at the end of January. After stabbing the guy and walking away, Dave and I hopped into a red truck, and I was still holding the knife, and wanted to call 911, because I didn’t want this guy to die. The knife had this big pink blob of flesh stuck on it. I woke up, then.

Three recurring themes popped up in this dream:

1) Vague feelings of being slightly lost or out of place

2) Definite feelings of wanting to get somewhere, but not being able to make it happen (I do not have nightmares, have only had one my entire life, I have anxiety dreams instead)

3) Defending myself against someone trying to attack me, always a man, always with a knife, and stabbing them with their own weapon

At least in my dreams, I always Get Them Before They Get Me®. When I am attacked in my dreams, I fight back, and win. Well, I guess if you consider nonchalantly walking away with a knife covered in flesh-chunks and kinda sorta feeling bad about stabbing some dude in a flannel winning.

On that note: I’m going to bed.