Triumphant return to the blogosphere

I've gone a little wild with the whole not having to do anything thing, having one arm and all, and totally neglected my bloggage. My surgery went really well last Thursday (very early) morning. I wasn't particularly nervous beforehand, but in retrospect I probably was, what with all the joke cracking I did. When I get the pictures off my mom's Iphone I'll share them...I look really dumb in a too-big shower cap and purple gown, just fyi. My super gay southern accent nurse was the first to come in and hook up my IV. When I joked about the "tropical view" I had on the curtains in front of me, he went on and on about all the cruises he'd gone on. The IV, my biggest fear, went a lot more smoothly than expected. Then the nurses decided to make me take a pregnancy test, even though I promised them I'd have to name the child Jesus due to immaculate conception if I was pregnant. I did have to pee, though, so whatever.

Finally, after 4 or 5 nurses fussed about things for a long time, the rather shy anesthesiologist came and gave me a "margarita." Then he started poking me with things that he sort of didn't really explain were going to happen. He stuck a needle in my neck and said that when my arm started flailing to just let it move. I think that's when I started crying and telling him he was hurting me, to which he kept apologizing. My mom told me later that they called my parents back in, and I kept saying, "I don't want to be a bad patient!" and crying more. When my mom asked me what I was thinking about, I said, "Elephants and rhinos." Which is probably the weirdest stoned person answer ever. Next thing I know the mask came at my face.

When I woke up, I was sure they were killing me. I thought they were still operating and the surgery had gone horribly wrong. But I couldn't really see, and no one was paying attention to me. I started raising my right arm a little bit and gasping, "Help!" A nurse finally came over but would not answer any of my demands as to what they had done to me. There was a giant lump on my shoulder, and I was very displeased. My shoulder was really painful, but I couldn't feel my arm. The nurses said something about morphine, which I protested and talked about opium dens. Eventually they maxed out the drugs on me and gave me a giant, painful shot in my leg that is still bruised. My parents eventually came in, and I got to drink the world's best Sprite. Mildred the Grumpster wheeled me out in a wheelchair, which was a pretty crazy feeling.

Turns out the surgery was the best case scenario. They cut off part of my labrum and cleaned out really bad bursitis. My doctor gave me the pictures of my "angry shoulder," which are pretty gnarly. I had to start moving it that day, and I can move it a little more daily. When I got home that day, though, my arm was still seriously numb. My mom and I were sleeping in my bed when I got some sensation back in my fingers, but as I tried to show her, I socked her in the stomach since I couldn't control the rest of my arm. Oops...

Taking the bandage off was extremely painful, taking off a lot of my skin with it. Showering was also an athletic endeavor and still sort of proves to be. I've been taking it really easy but moving my shoulder a lot. I can do some pretty normal things at this point. I haven't taken Vicodin in 3 days. Friday afternoon I have my follow up and find out what I can do. So hooray.


I think I might have talked about this before, but every Sunday morning I partake in my ritual of reading the wedding announcements over breakfast, or as I call them, "my brides." After seeing 27 Dresses (twice actually), I began to think that I was apt to become the main character, obsessed with weddings and wanting to attend zillions of them. Then today I found myself reading the obituaries, devouring them really, and realized that it probably isn't really the wedding part that I'm so drawn to. It's the story of each person. I don't care who designed the dress or where the reception was. I skim immediately down to the bottom, where it says the bride and groom's high schools, colleges, jobs, where they're going to live. I like to imagine my future life and to read about every one else's. The obituary thing is still a bit creepy though.

I'm also really excited because my high school bff passed on to me the adorably terrifying "sock-eyed mule" I made for her in a feverish stupor after a junior year physics class joke. I miss her so much! And I'm really glad we have this, our traveling sock pal.

A general rule of life is that you always run into the exact person you would really rather avoid. Or, in my case, the exact 4 people you'd rather not see. Several times a day, in different places, separately. Queen of Awkwardsville, at your service.

Procrastination has spawned profundity for me tonight. Though my paper is not due until Friday, I still meant to write it tonight. Instead I slipped into the most inspired mood (of non-paper writing). At first I attempted to listen to Vedic chanting to channel my inspiration toward academia, but that just turned into musing on my life goals...which led to Joni Mitchell's voice summing up my soul...which led to the most profound sense of peace. I can look at Facebook pictures right now and want to cry as an overwhelming sense of the beauty of every person takes over. It's about the corniest thing I could possibly come up with, but it's also a really nice feeling.

Yesterday my friend told me that I have a way of "describing things in a way that makes them interesting even if they're not." That's one of the best compliments ever to me. That's what I want to do- write normal (or not) things in interesting ways. One step closer to being Dave Barry yesss...

Campus Energy Challenge has been such a huge success. Who would have thought that boys and even frat boys would do the best job at energy conservation?? And also that 1/4 of the school would come out to a Wednesday night party for the environment?

Also, to be brutally honest, I wish men had the equivalent of menstruation. Like monthly "down under" aches or something. Then possibly there would be a greater understanding between the sexes.

Also also...I am very glad to have French tv in my room. It gives me a so much better than usual excuse to not do hw.

Jobs are annoying to find.

I'm having such a super awkward day. Mostly I'm doing things like missing the door handle and tripping on myself, but I also forgot something for extra credit that I very much did, dealt poorly with clueless group members, and had a really odd confrontation with a weekend potential mistake. Is karma kicking me in the face for the epic past few days? Hey karma, could you just get it out now and maybe stop at 7:59 pm? That would be great, thanks.

I really love music people jokes. They never make sense to anyone but other music major types, but that is what makes them all the more humorous. My voice teacher often sits at the piano plinking out notes and chuckling to herself along the lines of, "Oh silly me, that was a raised triangular minor octivated fifth ho ho ho..." while I stand there saying, "Haha..." but thinking, "Good thing I got as far as it being a C#." Apparently I am out of the loop in the musical humor department. But I did have my own personal funny music-related moment in my head whilst working on my research paper for voice. (Uhh yeah, voice lessons research paper...) I was perusing Mozart's collection on Rhapsody.com so i could listen to his style, and I had this thought that it was so strange that Mozart was accessible while the Beatles weren't due to copyright issues. And then I realized that Mozart is quite dead and even more unaware of the Internet and probably copyrights.

I'm starting Spanish next year for practical purposes, but I'm planning on studying in Sweden for other practical purposes. So in a few years I should possess skills in French, Spanish, and Swedish but dubious mastery of any of them. Should I be focusing better on that?

Well, I did it. I declared my major today. Marching with all my mustered dignity into the registrar's office (before I could realize what I was doing), I filled out the little card and handed it in. The lady took it from me, smiled, and said to have a nice day. And that was it. For some reason I expected balloons and confetti to fall out of the ceiling or the heavens to rumble and the earth to crack open. But I just handed in my card and walked away. And now I'm an Anthro major...

Also, while playing water polo today, I went to attack my friend to get the ball away and instead managed to shove my fingers up his nose.

Greek musings

Just 6 months ago, I could not even have fathomed that I might be in a sorority, much less that I will be living on a Greek hall next year. I was actually asked to live (with my ADPi suite) with the TriDelts and Zetas and skip regular registration. Yet I feel completely true to myself in all of this. I feel more comfortable in my own skin than ever actually. Life is sooo weird.