in memory of T

I had hoped to post an entry of relative cheerfulness, but I find it necessary to pay tribute to a friend of mine from Mary Wash who got to a point where she had no hope and took her life. I went to her memorial service this afternoon and dear God is was so heartbreaking. I held myself together pretty well until I saw her family. We took communion and on the way back, the immediate family stood in their pew and we gave them hugs. Her father and mother were sobbing and that was the worst part. I think I cried more after seeing her family so broken. Her poor father just looked lost. I pray that her family and friends find peace. I just can't even imagine the pain.

T, if you're reading this, I truly enjoyed our time together and I apologize if I didn't tell you enough. You were loved by so many people and I know that you are not suffering anymore. Life wasn't meant to be so lonely . . . you deserved to know that.

Here are the wonderful things that I remember about our time together:

- Halloween parties in my room, glowing pumpkins on the walls, scary movie marathons with Johnny Depp, and well, just admiration ofJohnny Depp in general.
- Supporting my roomie as she gave her ghostwalk tour and picking out where the people were going to jump out of the bushes
- Regular dinners at Seaco, overall scoffing of the food selection, the bistro? pizza? "Wha, they moved the booths again??"
- Legolas. Posters.
- Looking at all of the amazing photographs that you took on your travels.

There are more.

You will be missed.

Rest in peace, my dear.

i made it!

Ok, I need to change the font to normal size instead of small because it's bothering me. But that out of the way . . .

I made it through a day of work!! Sure I felt like crap most of the day! Sure I didn't know if I would make it and if my stomach would ever stop doing flip-flops, but I made it. That's all that matters. If I can make it through a day of work today, I can make it through tomorrow and the day after that. I probably won't have most of my energy back for another week or so, but I have what I need to work for now. That's about it. Well, and to go for a walk around my apartment. But beyond that, I'm not good for much! Just call me Little Miss Early Bedtime for like the next two weeks.

My parents came up on Saturday to take care of me and it was exactly what I needed. I felt stronger with them there and they helped me get all of the food and extra things that I needed. We went out to lunch and my mom and I went for a walk and had a wonderful time. Of course, after that, I was beat, but it was just so wonderful. I was really depressed after they left because I was so lonely, but my friends and family have kept calling and giving me support. It's been great.

Sunday was particularily hard for me. I started having anxiety attacks about driving and leaving the apartment because the last few times I had tried, I had been too sick to finish. So, my mom told me to go for a walk around the apartment and then to practice driving while she stayed with me on the phone. I had a mini-anxiety attack when I first started driving, but I eventually was able to calm myself down.

And today I made it through work. Yay!

Time to try and watch House.

*sigh*

Still sick. Still home. I'm tired of being sick.

she's a good "sticker"

I have decided that I am going to throw a big dinner party for all of the friends who have taken care of me the last five days picking me up and/or taking me home when I've felt horribly ill, taken me to Ukrop's or gone by themselves to get me ginger ale, chicken noodle soup, saltines, and the like . . . who've been calling to check up on me . . . I am very blessed and yes, I am still struggling to get over the virus the struck me down on Sunday. I have been bed ridden for most of the week. I managed to make it through a whole day of work on Tuesday (completely miserable) only to come in to work on Wednesday and have to be driven home by a colleague because I had nausea and chills and could barely move without feeling like I was on a tiny boat caught floating up and down on massive swells in the middle of the arctic.

My uncle took me to see the doctor yesterday afternoon. Apparently a massive viral cloud has settled over the city of Richmond and I am one of many to have acquired the virus. But, being already unhealthy, as my doctor told me, my body is having a lot harder time getting well. So, all I can do right now to fight the virus is eat a lot, sleep a lot, and cut out any extra activity besides work. Which sadly, I've already had to do - I've had to drop out of all of the rehearsals and the concert this week for the symphony. Once I get past this virus I have to work on getting myself healthy again.

They took blood from me at the doctor's office yesterday. In my shaky and sick state, I still managed to inform the nurse who was about to stick me with a needle that she had a challenging task ahead of her, as my veins are very hard to find and the last nurse to get blood from me two months ago had to stick me 3 times (and almost call for back-up). The nurse laughed and said that she'd do her best not to stick me more than once. I looked away (because as long as I don't look when I'm being stuck with a needle, I'm fine) and then I hear the nurse say "Hmmm . . . hey _____ (insert name of random nurse walking by)" to which I think to myself ("oh great, she can't find a vein") but then the nurse is like "Oh nevermind, I got it." My automatic reflex was to loudly proclaim "Thank God!" The nurse who had been walking by looked perplexed and less she think that my declaration was because the nurse taking my blood was inept, I hastily explained my background of nurses having trouble finding my veins and how this nurse found it on the first try. The walking by nurse said "Oh, well, she's good" and I told my nurse "Good job" and that indeed, she was good. And - had I felt better, I would have continued with how she was a credit to the nursing profession, but they ushered me to the check-out counter. As a friend of mine later told me, I got a good "sticker."

Tomorrow I am attemping a full day of work. Pray for me - I think I can make it through.

the great pit-stop of 2006

I never really considered myself one of those people who, despite being academically gifted, lacked a certain amount of common sense. However, I can't really stand up for myself when I take a look back at a certain decision I made on New Year's Day. It really was a stroke of brilliance, in the not-so-much-brilliant-as-brilliantly-stupid sort of manner. I had had a nice New Year's - quiet, with friends and not a whole lot of partying, as I was paranoid that I'd get stopped by a police checkpoint at some point on my route back home. I woke up New Year's Day feeling tired, but not more tired than usual.

Throughout the day I started to feel progressively more sick but was trying to will myself better because the GID was fixing a special New Year's Day dinner and I didn't want to disappoint by not being able to attend. (The "GID" stands for Guy I'm Dating. Until I get his permission to use his real name online, I have made up this acronym so that I can talk freely). About an hour before I was to depart, the common sense part of my mind was saying things like "Kelly, you know you feel absolutely horrible and barely able to move about your apartment - how do you think you are going to drive?" to which the stupid part of me replied, "Whatever, I can do it. Shut up. Maybe if you stop harrassing me I'll feel better." So, I get into my car and start to drive. No sooner do I pull out of my apartment complex do I realize that maybe I shouldn't be driving. My common sense says, "Yes, Kelly, I told you this earlier - you are the finest shade of green, your head feels like it's embraced the Iron Mask, you feel like you are going to puke, and the world around you looks unfamiliar. You should turn right back around. Forget the dinner."

My stupid side acknowledged the truth of this feelings, but decided that I could still make the 20 min. drive, if only barely. Although, if I had stopped to think, I would have realized that even if I had barely made it to the GID's apart., I would have left him with a barely comprehensible and sick Kelly - which is not a very nice thing to do. Anyway, so I keep driving and keep praying to God that I will 1. Get over this bridge alive 2. Get to this stoplight alive 3. Get to the next stoplight alive. Then my body couldn't take it anymore. I pulled off into a parking lot, noticed the golden lights of a Hardee's through my panicked haze of illness, and mad-dashed through it's doors, barely making it there in the neck of time.

Hardee's. I think we all know the delights of a Hardee's bathroom. I don't think that I need to describe it. Suffice it to say I was sick, marooned in a Hardee's bathroom, and God employed some angels to keep anybody else from entering. I managed to call a good friend, who came to pick me up and take me home. She and the GID then devised a masterful tag-team venture to get my car back to his place so it wouldn't get towed. Man, am I lucky in my friends.

I've spent the last two days alternating between the couch in my living room and my bed - between realizing that day-time television should be stricken from the records of humanity and sleeping 12 hours at a time (only to wake up feeling un-refreshed). I drank flat soda and ate dry cereal and crackers. The GID was a good GID and brought me medicine and food, and took me to get my car at his place. Driving it home I still didn't feel very good, so I kept someone on the phone with me the whole time.

Now, I've managed to crawl into work. I feel better in some respects, but overall still feel pretty gross. Have a headache the size of . . . well, the size of something big and scary and painful. Tonight I have the first symphony rehearsal of 3 + a concert this week and there is a pool being taken between the various facets of my brain as to whether I will almost pass out in rehearsal again. Maybe I will just sit there and listen. Haven't decided.

Hardee's I thank you for being in the right place at the right time, although when I feel better, perhaps we could talk about your menu choices.

me. on a dark country road.

Those who know me know that I am navigationally challenged. It is of course, no fault of my own. I am the helpless victim of poor navigational genetics. Anyway, I had a babysitting job last night that ended up being in The Middle Of Nowhere. I mean, back country road USA. I have nothing against the country. I love it, actually. But take away my street signs, stop lights and neon navigational-direction-pointers and I get a bit anxious. I guess if I ever want to realize my dream of living in the mountains yet within 10 miles of a thriving city, I'll have to get over that.

So, I'm driving on ye old dirt road and notice that 1. Most of these houses are over 300 feet back from the road, behind lots of trees. 2. The only way you can see an address number is by having miraculous superspeed night vision that enables you to glimpse miniscule address numbers on the side of black mailboxes in the pitch black at 45 miles per hour. Of course, for the first part of this driving adventure, I have a pickup truck tailing me and forcing me to go 45 mph, therefore preventing me from seeing what addresses I am passing because I lack previously mentioned superspeed night vision. Then the truck turns off the road and I can slow down. But I realize as I travel for a much longer time expected down the road and reach an "intersection" that I've missed the house. With a cool head, I turn around and drive back at 25 mph, stopping at every mailbox to read the number. Note: With a cool head. (No panic!) And then I find the house. Finally. Aren't you proud of me?

Salmon Soda

I know that Americans are oftly fond of the unique. Especially when it's one-of-a-kind . . . and we own it. We have learned quite well how to make sure it gets noticed, either by a flashing hand or a subtle/not-so-subtle hint within conversation. I know this. But I really wonder why in the heck someone on this planet has enough time, enough inclination, and enough money to concept and actually create salmon-flavored soda. Can one even claim its appeal lies in novelty? Is it even possible?! I think not. Such a declaration would imply that any appeal, of any sort whatsoever, lay within it.

Really, I like fish. I do. In fact, salmon is my favorite fish Of All Time. I'm a little unhappy though, about the fact that at least for the next week I associate it with a completely unpleasant and vile drink. It's orange-pink. It tastes like salmon (really, that's all I need to say), and it slides down your throat in liquid form. Gah . . . gross eew eew eew *twitching and all sorts of uncomfortable motions.* Is it too much to ask that we keep fish in it's natural form and not apply its flavor to soda?

And thus, as I ponder the ever-horrifying concept of salmon-flavored soda, I find the urge to pen this:

REAL MEN OF GENIUS *Real Men of Genius!*

We salute you Mr. Salmon-Flavored-Soda-Creator-Man. *Mr. Salmon-Flavored-Soda-Creator-Man!* You took a step out of the box - waaay out side of the box, when you combined our favorite pink fish with a carbonated beverage. *TRUE harmony of nature and taste!* Regular, Diet, . . . who cares? As long it's in a cool bottle, that's all that really matters *SO pretty and pink!* We take comfort in the fact that somewhere, somehow, there is a way to eat salmon without using a fork or a knife .*CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!* As we throw up in the nearest trash can, we salute you Mr. Salmon-Flavored-Soda-Creator-Man . . . because nothing says "satisfying" like a fishy aftertaste. *Mr. Salmon-Flavored-Soda-Creator-Man!"