So long story short: I'm eventually going to have a tooth pulled and replaced by an implant because of external reapsorbtion which is causing my tooth to basically commit hari-kiri in my mouth. Basically, there's nothing I can do short of brushing and flossing every day until it actually starts to hurt. Then it's goodbye tooth, hello pain. If it was internal reapsorbtion, I'd have a root canal and be done with it. But no, I have to have the worse version where my tooth basically dies before I can do anything about it. And, of course, it's got absolutely nothing to do with what I did. The cause is entirely mysterious although it's usually linked to having orthodontia. So orthodontists everywhere: stop. Everyone hates you. Now this has not been a very good year for me health-wise. But I'm normally a very healthy person, so I've decided that after years of no more than the occasional stomach-flu every six or so years, my body is going on strike. It finally realized that it's allowed to get sick every now and then so it's started attacking itself. The evidence: ACL torn, removed, and replaced. Technically this happened because someone else tackled me, but the fact remains that my body couldn't fix itself. Appendix removed. "Hey, Large Intestine! Instead of getting rid of this crap up here, let's just lodge it into that little tube thing and see if it'll explode!" Tooth suffers external reapsorbtion and my own body starts attacking the ligament connecting the tooth. Clearly, my body is targeting my ligaments. My next action of defense: bake a delicious cake for my dad's birthday and enjoy it. If my tooth is coming out somewhere in the near or distant future, at least it will have had carrot cake one more time.
So after 9 hours holed up in my room, and 13 days of reading 4,100 pages, I have now completed the Harry Potter series. This is kind of a momentous event for me. Which is kind of an understatement. My reaction?
Things that I have thus far completed this summer: -Snuck into a chapel with a locked front gate in Greece. My dad ripped his shorts climbing back over the wall. Divine retribution? I think so. -Walked to the top of the Acropolis and to the top of another hill in Athens at sunset that gave a really great view of the Acropolis. Basically, got a major buns and thigh workout. -Only laughed at one naked statue in a museum, and that's because it was some sort of half-human thing with a very strange looking erection that was probably the same length of the statue's thigh. The statue was only 8 inches tall, but I had to leave the room in fear that I would burst out laughing. -Ran in the stadium at Olympia wearing a skirt and run in the stadium at Delphi (both with flip flops). -Took, with my dad, a total of 794 pictures in Greece alone. -Tried all of (or ate a dish of) the following: moussaka, patstitio, goat stew, stuffed vine leaves, and frog's legs. -Had a sip of ouzo in Greece. Was thoroughly disgusted and have decided that hard alcohol goes high on my list of things I do not wish to consume. -Read my first word in Greek without the aide of Roman characters, ∑∏OPOΦHTA. Or something to that effect- either way, I knew it meant a plant because my crude translation of it was "Sporophyta", which we learned about in bio. -Kissed practically every member of my extended family for the millionth time like a polite French girl should do (12 cousins, 3 aunts, 2 uncles, 4 grandparents, one grand uncle?, and one great-grandmother. Check). -Read four books for fun. More importantly, read for fun for the first time in months. -Have been awake the past 22 hours and am working for 24 in order to sleep until a reasonable time tomorrow morning. I hate jetlag.
Things to do: -Sleep. Forever. In my comfy bed, not sharing a room with any cousins or immediate family members for the first time in two weeks. -Satisfy my sushi and Mexican food cravings that come from more than a week without seeing a restaurant that even sells fajitas or sushi. -Veg out like none other.
For now, I think I'll settle with accomplishing number one on my to do list. The party never stops here in Louise-Land.
9:00 - Calculus final. Lots of panicking before the test, but it went surprisingly well. I never really believed in miracles, but if I did, this would definitely be one of them. So praise Allah, I think I passed. 11:00 - Biology. Pretending to work for an hour and a half isn't actually very fun. Neither is watching things die in Andromeda Strain. Made a really shitty flipbook and went on a walk around the track with Caitlin. Mrs. Williams never noticed. 3:00 - Tennis match. Luc v. Rosenberg. I don't even have Mr. Rosenberg. However, it was highly entertaining, especially because Gabi made signs. And Garrett made himself a girlfriend out of grass clippings. Yesss. 5:00 - Another Miracle Occurs. I find shorts that fit, without even trying very hard. I also was bored and tried on like 5 dresses, all of which made me look fat. Excuse me, but I don't appreciate it when dresses poof out over your stomach or around your hips to make you look like a hippo. Is this fashion? I think not. 7:00 - Track Party. Ate way too much, including two of the most delicious coconut cupcakes I have ever eaten. Then watched lots of track movies and got the Varsity Girls Coaches Award. The reason I mention this is because what it says on the award, namely, my name: "Lois". That's pretty much the story of my life right there. The end.
Friday was my last 300 hurdles race ever, and last high school track meet. I'm sad it's over, but it ended well, so I can be happy with that. I broke my season PR by over a second (50.55, which is only a second off of my all-time PR). I knew I had run a good race when I felt like I was going to throw up/pass out/die immediately afterward. How fast I run is directly proportional to how shitty I feel afterward. Considering my initial season goal was just to run in a hurdles race period, I have to say that I'm very satisfied with track this year. My doctor was right though; he told me that I'd be able to return to full contact sports around 6-7 months after surgery, and it's been about that long and suddenly I'm hurdling a LOT better. I think I'm going to account for my success through hard work and determination, because that sounds better than "Oh, the cadaver donor in my knee is finally loosening up". What better way to celebrate a good track season then spend all weekend studying for AP's? Don't be jealous, I know how much you all love Bio and Econ. But for serious, Thursday night is going to be awesome. Last AP, movies with mi hermano, Great America all Friday instead of school: senior year is finally going to be GOOD. But before that, it's quote time, brought to you by my fav freshman. Grace: Well, you could make yellow by mixing like, orange and white, right? Adi and Me: ......... no.
Tuesday and Thursday were League Trials and Finals for track. It's kind of hard to describe track events without being long winded, extremely detail oriented, or sounding like that creepy girl who knows the name of every ANTM contestant in every ANTM cycle ever (not that I would know anyone like that). So let us be brief and talk about one of the success stories of the week. I'm talkin' bout me, bitches. You know you love it. Tuesday I ran a 53.59 in the 300hurdles, which put me in 10th place and second alternate to the finals. But judging who was in the finals and that Sarah was first alternate, I figured that was the end of my high school track career. I was sad about it, especially since I didn't run a season PR or anything (it's 4 seconds slower than last year's PR of 49.45. I also have a dead person's Achilles in my knee instead of an ACL). Thursday comes and I'm warming up for the race (just in case) and I assume Sarah hasn't checked in because her foot is injured. But surprise, surprise, a girl from Los Gatos hasn't checked in yet. Also, she shows no signs of doing so. So I had a major pre-race meltdown that makes me nervous just thinking about it. Coach Hughes visualization exercises that are to help calm me down and envision my perfect race I'm about to run are punctuated with images of my bloody and painful demise. I picture the headline: "Athlete Dies on First Hurdle, Coaches Laugh at her Mangled Corpse and Terrible Form". Needless to say, I freaked out the other girls in the race by being too chatty (which showed them how serious of a competitor I was. Wouldn't you be intimidated by comments like "I'm so glad it isn't raining yet. Aren't you? I heard it was going to rain today!"). On the plus side, the girl from Gatos who scratched had lane 5, my favorite lane and the lane assigned to the second fastest person on the track. So I pretty much lucked out in every sense, and I still felt like I was going to pass out before the gun went off. But then a miracle occurs. I get into my blocks and I realize that for the first time in almost seven months, my knee finally feels like part of my body. Blocks have been painful to get into the whole season because my knee bends too fast to get into the first position, but this time it didn't. And as the gun went off, my knee still didn't hurt. At one point my Achilles hurt (the one that genetically belongs to me and is in my calf), but adrenaline works miracles for pain (see the Appendicitis/Track Meet post). Apparently I'm really bad luck for the girl from Palo Alto. The first time I raced her, the timer broke and we had to wait 20 minutes before the race started. The second time, she fell and I thought I was going to step on her. She still got second, but falling sucks all the same. I'm also bad luck for the girl from Lynbrook who got to the finish line before me, but "crossed" 7 seconds after. She fell on the last hurdle, rolled to the finish line, and stuck out her arm. Only it's not your arm that counts, it's your chest. So I got 5th place, a season PR of 51.81 (almost a second and a half faster than I had been running all season), and apparently a medal, although I am doubtful of said medal's existence. Also, I might be moving on to the SCVAL meet, where I will surely get my ass kicked. I'm looking forward to it immensely. Also, on a totally unrelated note, I am in love with Jim Gaffigan.
Today was the 48th annual Jr. Olympics. Half of my time was spent as a volunteer, the other half as a coach for my sister's relay team. Volunteering: First, I was a security guard. I made sure to bring dark sunglasses to look official. Mr. Cochran was arguing with another guard about getting in somewhere and I was SO glad it wasn't me. Otherwise, he would've been like "I'll give you an A in Calc if you let me go" and I would've had to break the rules. That would certaintly undermine my authority as a member of the Olympic Guard. I thought my next job would be better because I was a runner for the Hurdles, but it really involved me walking back and forth like 50 times. And no other runner was doing that so I guess I was just special. Seriously, I felt retarded and I'm sure I was doing something wrong, but I made friends with the security guards I had to pass by everytime I entered the field. Which was once every five minutes. Coaching: this was much better because I didn't really have to do much other than make them look official. And since I'm allowed to brag, my team was by FAR superior. Not only did they have superior technique (for which I received compliments even though I just used the standard method that I guess most parent volunteers don't know) and I had superior athletes. They had the finals for their events before the relay and not only did three of them sweep the 75 yard dash, but I got a 1st, 5th, and 6th in the hurdles. Needless to say, they won by at least 20 yards and I was very proud. Seriously, these kids are like 5 times buffer than I was when I was a fifth grader. But I guess it's nice to live vicariously through them (especially my sister, who won the 75 yd dash, 60 yd hurdles, long jump, and the relay. God, why did she get all the good genes?) But despite being very tired and covered in sunscreen, today was most excellent. I always thought that if I did well in the Junior Olympics, some day I could be part of the real Olympics. That's for sure never going to happen, but it's nice to go back every year and remember that I used to think that the Junior Olympics were the shit. What am I saying? Junior Olympics are still awesome and always will be. So suck it, maturity. I can be a fifth grader forever.
The epic story of the worst weekend of my life: It started with a most excellent meal Friday night at the Cheesecake factory where I stuffed myself to bursting. This was then followed by stomach pain because I ate too much. Woke up in the middle of the night for a few minutes because my lower abdomen hurt, but attributed it to excessive amount of delicious cheesecake and went pack to bed. Saturday morning I wake up very grumpy at 7:00 to go to a track meet. Lower abdomen hurts, mostly on the right side, so I have three bites of an apple for breakfast and board the bus. Upon arriving at the meet and checking in, I realize I have thirty minutes to warm up before my event. My back hurt, so I put on some IcyHot, stripped down to my scandalous spandex and hoped in the blocks. I ran my first ever 400 meter hurdles in 75.34, second in my heat by .02 seconds. I was just happy I finished, even though I felt like passing out. But that's not unusual for a 400. Shopping in the afternoon was also fun, but my stomach still hurt, so I decided it was time to call a doctor because I was worried it could be appendicitis. A trip to the emergency room to check it out means waiting three hours until I get a blood test (uncomfortable), an IV (painful), and a hospital gown (drafty). Carted off to take more tests around 9, where I get to use radioactive iodine and a CT scan. This process was way cooler to learn about in Chemistry class than to actually experience. I will spare you details of other tests done. By 10:30, the doctors decide I should spend the night because it looks like appendicitis. This means an operation, which leads to a complete emotional breakdown in which I have to be hugged by the nurse. Did I mention my parents were boarding a plane to leave New Zeland at this time? Or that my grandfather, who speaks English with a VERY heavy accent, was the only one I had around? Fortunately, everyone was very nice, although I think I was referred to as "just a baby" at least twice. I don't know very many babies with boobs and a full set of adult teeth, but hey, I'm not the nurse. Sleeping in a hospital is impossible. Sleeping in a hospital with an IV that keeps you hydrated and makes you have to visit the bathroom every two hours is something else. I slept less than 6 hours between getting a room at 1:00 AM and prepping for surgery at 7:00 AM, but that's okay because I got to sleep an extra two hours from being knocked out from anesthesia. Those who tell you waking up after anesthesia is fun is lying to you or giving you the wrong drugs. And speaking of drugs, they were supposed to give me morphine for the pain, but I thought about that crazy lady from To Kill a Mockingbird who was addicted to morhpine and decided to take a half dose. But as much as I dislike drugs (I'm refusing to take the Vicodin prescribed because it makes me feel ten times worse) morphine is kind of nice. That is to say, I'm going to become some crazy, drug-addicted Southern lady in classic literature when I'm older. Needless to say, I out of the hospital now after 25 hours, having eaten a bowl and a half of jello and two bowls of broth (clear liquid-only diets lack variety. But jello is delicious). I'm looking forward to eating ice cream tomorrow (real food!) and sleeping without a needle stuck in my arm. The good thing about getting your appendix removed is that I'll never have appendicitis again. Aren't I lucky? Basically, I'm really happy to be back at home where I'm not attached to any electronic machines. I'll probably be back at school Tuesday, although I'm not allowed to shower until then. So if I'm not there, think of the terrible smell I'm saving you from.
Edit: The Extremely Good: - I've been admitted to UC Berkeley (Insert copius exclamation points). Also, I get to go back there on Saturday to run on the track in a meet. The fun never stops areound here. The Good: -Leaving calculus class feeling like I actually understood something. - A solid workout despite the heat (good Lord, I thought I was going to evaporate. Also, I apparently built abs between last year and now. I am curious as to when/how this could have happened. Reward for information). - Dried blueberries. Delicious. The Bad: - Something that starts with a "Senior" and ends with a "Project" which shall not be discussed any further - Bluefin tuna is more endangered than pandas. You learn every day. The Ugly: - Sporophytes and Gameophytes. I mean wtf. - My face after running time trials. Or after running anything really. - Your Mom. Also, Tyra when angry.
This wraps up news for the week. Any questions? Class dismissed.
This always makes me feel better. The lens cap was on for the first 15 seconds, so ten points if you can guess what it is before you can see it.
Too bad I actually know this kid. He's hilarious. Also, in more recent news, I was attacked by a fish AND a crab in Maui, last night I saw a guy in a skirt walking around SF, and I have a batch of cupcakes to bake for the baking club competition tomorrow. They will be delicious, so come and get fat before 5th period. You know you want to.
Dear French Government (that means you, Mr. Shirac), Please stop trying to recruit me for the army. Or any military post; I know I'm the descendant of a former worker of the Ministry of the Defense and my dad paints miniature Napoleonic-era soldiers for fun, but really, I'm not a fan of war. I've seen too many war documentaries for that. Call me selfish, but I'm rather fond of keeping all my limbs attached to my body. I understand that as a citizen of France, it is my civic duty to support my (other) country. But seeing as I'm going to run away to Canada the minute the U.S. decides that women should get drafted into whatever shitty post-Cold War, trigger-happy conflict we've gotten ourselves into, I really can't help you out much. Rest assured that I'm not ever going to fight in a war against you. I just don't want to fight in a war for you. Also? My French skills are practically nil. I can understand and speak enough to order myself enough croissants to survive on, but I'm sorely lacking in the "military weapons" vocabulary section. Besides, would you really trust me with a secret mission? I can be easily bribed with chocolate or a chance to play soccer with Zidane. In short, piss off. Sincerely, Louise
I have found the motherload. (Um, maybe you should turn the volume down at the end. Or not)
She's pissed like President Bush at a gay parade in Texas. (I think I'm going to be connected to my iPod for the next four days. I've only been looking for this CD for like two months. Watch out, betch).
Today I ran two kilometers. That's a mile and a quarter for those of you who don't speak metric. It wasn't consecutive, but seeing as it was the first time I was able to run in three months, I think I'm allowed to take breaks. Also, I run too fast (well, it's still super super super slow, but all things considered, I think my legs were like WTF ARE YOU DOING). Is it possible to be bad at jogging? Because I think I am. Anyone who wants to "work out" with me is welcome, because although today was fun, I'm sure once the thrill of being able to move again wears off, it's going to get hella boring. I promise it'll make you feel good about yourself; you'll feel like you actually excercised (even though it barely counts) and you will feel super fit running next to me, the world's largest snail. In other news, it's my brother's birthday, and I have to make him something edible and delicious. I've already given him cholocate chip cookies and a chocolate pudding pie in the past. I think it's time to expand my horizons. Any good ideas? Finally, the Queen of England is accepting applications to be her personal assisant. Details in the ad section of the latest Economist. So the rest of my day will be spent reading the English Constitution (or whatever they go by) so that I can be better suited to my future occupation.
My New Year's Resolution: To be more like Our Lord and Savior, Tyra Banks.
Watch out bitches. I am FIIIIIEEEEEERCE.
PS Why does the weather have to be so nice when I still have an application to finish? Perhaps Tyra is punishing me for watching ANTM yesterday instead of working. But probably not.
A little late, but I just found this and I think it appropriately describes the magic that is December.
If you don't laugh at some point, you must be clinically dead. Also, can you believe this woman topped the English charts at some point in her life? WTF mate.
So yesterday my little sister was sick. To study for my huge bio test today, I tried to explain to her how the immune system worked at the dinner table, and the follwong conversation ensued: Me: Right now, your B cells are sending working in a humoral response to fight pathogens in your bloodstream with anitbodies. And cytotoxic T cells are killing your body's cells that have already been infected. Marc: Meanwhile, the G cells are chillin' saying, "Damn, it feels good to be a gangster".
I'm going to miss that kid when I go to college next year.
EDIT Even more amazing. Tonight at dinner, my brother was acting very strangely (as usual) which prompted my sister to ask; Julia: What did you have for lunch today? Marc: Love and peace Julia: What?! Marc: I ate John Lennon for lunch.
Reasons this weekend has been good: 1) Watching Caddyshack and doing impressions (namely Renee's poetry recital and Tyra Banks). Also, eating cake. For breakfast. 2) Watching my first ever Bond movie. And being a spy with Avery and being grossed out by two gross people making out (grosser: upon returning to the group, one distinctly made the comment "Ah, that's better". Kill me now) 3) Using my excercise bike that probably originated in 1984. 4) Three weeks until Christmas. And two until Hanukkah, but that one doesn't really apply seeing as I'm not Jewish. Details, details. 5) Driving for the first time in a month and a half (and realizing that I still can't park). At one point I was behind Brett's big fat red monster truck and I thought I was going to die. He probably wouldv'e been like "Man, that was a big squirrel". 6) Making cookies and eating all the dough 7) Best of all: NO MORE LEG BRACE! Watch out kids, I've got a pretty fierce walk going on. Also, ANTM finale is on Wednesday, so I'm thinking given my current physical condition (limping, still-swollen knee, atrophied muscles) I should try out for Cycle 8. I think I would be "the girl with all the potential in the world". And Tyra, like Jesus, would give me a second chance at life in becoming America's Next. Top. Model.
Peace, love, rock and roll madness. (Ten points if you know who said this).
Surgery for new knee? Check Stanford Application completed and submitted? Check (!) Senior Project? Panic (!)
Hopefully I'll be at school tomorrow, which isn't really very fun, but it's better than sitting in bed and reading Beloved until I go nuts (such a weird book. Agreed? Good). Halloween is on Tuesday! YES.
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