This is really starting to get under my skin, people. When you’re writing a caption to a picture or something, and it includes you and another person, it’s “and me” not “and I.” If the picture was of just you, would you say “This is a picture of I”? No, you would not. You would say “This is a picture of me.” In elementary school, when we were learning the difference between “I” and “me,” my teacher said to take away the other person in the sentence and ask ourselves if “I” or “me” made sense standing alone… and there you have it. ”I” is a pronoun that must be the subject of a verb. “Me” is a pronoun that must be the object of the verb. For the love of God, people, please heed this message.

I was going to try for law review, but now I don’t know. I’d have like four days to write it, and I’m still so tired. All I want to do is sleep. I feel like I’m supposed to do it, but I don’t even know if I want it. Why don’t I just do a journal instead? I don’t know anymore, but I really don’t want to write a 20-page paper. 

In December I weighed 138. That was me out of shape.

In May I weighed 135. That was after exercising semi-regularly.

Right before surgery I weighed 132. That was after being stressed out from exams and life.

Today I weigh 123. I had a tonsillectomy a week and a half ago.

To me, I don’t think I look much smaller, but I definitely feel like I lost 10 pounds very quickly. I am totally exhausted. I can’t stand up for more than a few minutes. I wish I could eat like a normal person. It hurts so bad to swallow, and everything hurts my mouth. Sugar burns. Cream makes me phlegmy. Salt is ok for a short while. Too hot and too cold is bad. I’m so sick of all this food I’ve been living off of. Everything tastes bad after a while. I also eat so slowly that I have to re-heat it several times before finishing. I’m also drinking water like a fish, but my pee looks like I’m dehydrated. I probably have some extra water weight. 

I want sushi and lentils and green curry and ethiopian food and indian food and a sub from Jimmy John’s or Snarf’s and a caprese salad and bruschetta.

After spending a few hours in the ER on Monday night and still not hearing from him, I started giving in to the little voice that was telling me this was more than just him needing space while he was going through shit. 

I know I fucked up. We started dating at the worst possible time in my life: two months before the end of my semester. I was a stressed-out mess and I really couldn’t handle bringing a new person into my life. 

So, assuming I might not hear from him ever again, I wrote him an email telling him everything I wanted to say if I had the chance to talk to him… a lot of it was stuff that had been bothering me for a while but was never able to address before all the shit hit the fan.

It was a pretty long email, but pretty much I told him school was taking a huge toll on my mental health. I hadn’t been feeling like myself, and I was anxious and distracted most of the time we were together.

I also wrote a lot about how I’ve realized that I still have a lot of bad habits left over from my emotionally and verbally abusive ex-boyfriend of last year. He conditioned my behavior. I was afraid of asking questions, or talking about myself and things I liked, or giving my opinions, or planning things, or inviting him out with my friends, or disagreeing, or suggesting alternatives, or saying no, or saying how I felt. I expected him to react in the same fucked up way as my ex. For example, I wouldn’t talk about anything that excited me because I was afraid the boy would put it down or make fun of me. Or I was always hesitant to ask him what he was up to that day for fear he’d tell me I’m being nosy and get mad. Basically I was so used to being shut down all the time that I stopped trying to open up at all anymore.

I ended it by saying that I hope he understands and talks to me. That I don’t know what he’s going through, but that I feel like I fucked it up since I haven’t heard from him. Also because we haven’t spoken, I don’t know what he wants, so it’s really hard to know if what I’m saying is even speaking to how he’s feeling. Also, that I’d like a do-over or something, but either way I would feel really shitty if I never heard from him at all.

So I sent that last night… I heard from him today. He was very brief. He was online so I said hi and asked if he got my email… I wasn’t expecting him to respond, but after a little while, he actually said something (a breakthrough!). He said he did. I asked him if he got a chance to read it, he said he did. I asked him if it made sense, he said it did and that he was still processing it… and that was all. Better than nothing, which was what I was getting for the past 2 weeks or however long it’s been. Throughout all of this, he’s never come out and called it quits, and neither have I. I guess there’s some promise yet. As much as it’s hurt that he shut me out like he did, I still want it to work out. I wasn’t exactly an angel either… looking back, I’m surprised he even stayed with me as long as he did. I guess I just want to get past everything and start over because I really feel like we’d be good for each other… So here’s hoping. 

Pissed. I worked my ass off this semester in my writing class. I got 95 points out of 100. Yet, somehow, according to the curve, I end up with a B. 

Just got home after the scariest experience of my life.

My throat ruptured and I was gushing so much blood I thought I was dying.

I rode an ambulance to the hospital.

After a few hours, they let me go home.

I’m really scared to fall asleep.

Or look at my bathroom—I left it looking like a murder scene.

Seeing the last one done is the literary equivalent to spitting in my eyes.

(via imthebestdamnme)

Why is this tacky?

Saying “gifts optional” and where they’re registered on the invite comes off as though they’re soliciting gifts, especially since they’re the ones hosting their own engagement party. It’d be one thing (and still tacky) if their parents were the ones hosting the engagement party and said the gift thing, but since they’re doing it, it should be more about celebrating their engagement (which, by the way, happened in December). It’s like throwing yourself a baby shower.

Plus, telling people where you’re registered on invitations is like the biggest faux pas ever… at least according to me and Emily Post. It assumes that the guests are going to give you gifts, and you’re steering them in the desired retail direction. Not only that, this is an engagement party, not a wedding. They’ll get gifts once they tie the knot, so no need to be double-dipping.

http://www.emilypost.com/weddings/wedding-registries-gifts-and-thank-yous/520-tamingtheweddingregistry

Law review packets are due in a week. I haven’t really started. I’m still in recovery phase from surgery and soooo tired. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel more up to it. 

It isn’t helping that I’m overly-confident in my writing ability. I did extremely well in my writing class this year, so I’ve been kinda banking on that to compensate for my being in Percocet dream-land for the first week we’ve been able to work on the packets.

“Gifts optional: Registered at BedBath&Beyond”

Please be more tacky next time you host a celebration of yourself.

I didn’t really think of myself as “girly” until I moved to Denver. Now, when I compare myself to other Denver females, I could consider myself girly. 

I own more dresses and skirts than I’m willing to count. I wear makeup (though not a lot), spend time doing my hair, paint my nails, wear frilly underwear, shave every day, and make other people kill spiders for me. 

I hate wearing pants. I own three pairs of underwear made of cotton. I’ve never worn workout clothes in public besides to and from the gym. The only sweatpants I’ve ever possessed are ones my college boyfriend left at my place. The shortest my hair has ever been (and ever will be) was just below my chin.

Today I had to go to Walgreens to pick up a refill of my painkillers. I still look like shit—swollen neck, eyebrows seriously overgrown, malnourished—but I’ve embraced it. I’m not about to put on makeup for a 20 minute outing, despite looking like a sickly little lady. However, I definitely curled my eyelashes before I left. I had to do something!

This is going to sound really weird, but I’ve noticed that I find masculine and androgynous girls intimidating. I don’t know why. Maybe because in my life, these were the people who were the meanest to me. They were capable of both verbally and physically ripping me apart. Their tough personalities were reflected in their appearances. So, fair or not, I guess I’ve started associating that way of dressing/grooming with people I’d rather avoid. 

It’s cool, sort of… but totally exhausting. I am so weak. Today I kept dozing off and I can’t stand up for more than a few minutes without getting super tired.  

This past winter I was really out of shape and gained at least 7 pounds. After a few months of exercise, I was back to almost my ideal weight right before surgery. Now I’m just weak and withering away. I feel like I’m losing any muscle I had. 

I hope I don’t gain all the weight back. At least it’s summer and I usually have no appetite when it’s hot. Plus I’ll have a lot more time to exercise. I plan on running lots and practicing yoga a few times a week. I especially need to tone up my scrawny arms because I’m getting a tattoo on the inside of my upper arm soon. Pretty stoked about that. One of my best friends and I are getting matching tats. Not sure exactly how it’s gonna be, but we want it to say “never for money, always for love” (yes that’s talking heads) maybe on like a ribbon held up by a couple birds or some shit. Gonna be tight.