10 December 2009


Do Not Resuscitate.

they asked me if I knew

what it meant and said

that if something happened

– anything –

that I should know what to do.

– nothing.

though we’d been doing it all along

as if we each had been to the hospice.

just watching your hair fall out and

your body eat itself.

and we never even blinked when

the cancer consumed the rest.

we just inhaled when

you could not.

we didn’t know that

it was then you had chosen –

“go for a walk around the neighborhood”

you said.

“the air is so nice today.”

and when we returned

we did not resuscitate you.

I only woke myself because

when your body turned against you

I was falling in love with

a lovesick boy who knows neither

death nor god –

both you are familiar with.

it was your last sunny afternoon

that I finally took a break from him.

– remember?

the afternoon we all sat and

enjoyed the warm sun while you

receded into your weakened mind

your eyes blackened by removal.

and no one wanted to go inside for

we knew we’d never climb or

help you up

those scratchy concrete stairs again.

but instead the sun turned cold like your skin and

we went into your empty

stone house and talked about

Do Not Resuscitate.

a brief moment eclipsed

by reality.

like my day with the boy.

I took in everything about him that

you are not.

using my lips to borrow life from him

we carved a future with no one but

ourselves and eternal sunshine –

only for a pile of dishes to sober

us to the shadowed sun.

we will resuscitate for now while

discovering life and

preventing new ones.

pretending you are not covered

with earth and

coming for me.

so here I am.


touching my breasts.

waiting for you to appear.

waiting for no one to

awaken me.

[while listening to the antlers' hospice album.]

30 September 2009

american dreams

It's been months since I've written a poem and actually posted it, but since it's past one in the morning and I'm not tired it kinda makes sense to do this now.

So here's something I wrote on August 2, 2009. It's pretty much about adjusting back to life in the US, not knowing whether to love or hate it or to love or hate myself for those feelings. As usual with my poetry, relationships (sexual or "real") aren't necessarily literal. I guess you've gotta read it to catch my drift. Also, for some reason the indents are non-functional so forgive me if it seems a bit runny.

I wake up at dawn
these days
with too much to do and
too much time to do it
but here in the city
nothing seems right
where the roosters are
and the birds are lazier
than I am

whoever thought a place like this
was a good idea?

no one touches me here
because it's all about
distance from the boys
and men
I have loved and always will
their names nearly cover the alphabet
these days

I try not to chase them
any further away than
they already are
because here in this starless city
I cry most for the lovers
who are to come

the first morning afters
the taste of unbrushed teeth
and the smell of potential
oh, the potential
of being full of life for
years to come
that studded ring finger
and lips swollen from his touch
amidst the smell of oatmeal and honey
for just a moment
the kind that you keep on
perpetual pause
just because you can
so that when another man
wears his cologne on the 5
you remember his crow's feet
and the way his fingers memorized your body
that night

so here
in the city
no matter the futility
I will wait for his crow

[Okay, okay, I changed it up a bit. Seems that August me is definitely not September me. This is why I love words and not numbers.]

08 April 2009

Indie star.

As those of you who love me know, I write a column every other week for the Daily Texan. This week I was supposed to have a column, but let's just say there were "creative differences" between me and staff, so I just decided to let them drop it. I guess I'll write about puppies and kitties next time (or at least attack some cool people who don't deserve it).

[Don't worry, I'll write the full story after I'm not liable for shit or whatever.]

So since The Internet is amazing, I get to post it on here instead. Someone I won't name said that I'll probably get more people reading my column on my blog/Facebook than I would if it was printed. I got a good chuckle out of that.

It's not my typical typical typical kind of writing because it's uber-structured for me (and oh, how I hate structure!), and I had to add in some sociology junk to try to assuage people (and cut out some funny shit) but anyways...enjoy.

"Last month I participated in what few other hippies would dare try – Round Up 2009. For those who don’t speak Greek, Round Up is the weekend when all the frats and sororities deem it socially desirable to wear neon colors and fanny packs in an (unofficial) attempt to hook potential members on the Greek scene. The parties are virtually non-stop, with round-the-clock drunkenness in celebration of, well, being Greek.

I am not Greek material. I don’t have the money, the look, or the ability to drink copious amounts of Keystone, and the crowd I run with typically scowls at the Greek culture. I once thought that rushes were simply overwhelmed by what we sociology majors call anomie, a sense of normlessness that hits most freshman when they realize they have no friends in a school of almost 50,000. To combat this loneliness, about 11% of current UT students have pledged, and I once considered myself superior to them because I found social solidarity on my own. But when I started seeing a frat guy this semester, I realized that our relationship would depend on my willingness to try out the Greek life.

I once believed all the typical stereotypes that circulate throughout the non-Greek world. “Frat stars” spend most of their money on cheap beer and pride themselves on how much of it they can drink without puking or passing out. They have an insatiable appetite for sex with as many different sorority girls as possible, and they must pay thousands of dollars in dues to get friends and one night stands.

On the other hand, I’m known as a “goddamn independent” in the Greek world. I am penniless and hopeless, and I lack a “real” social life because I don’t always have parties to go to from Thursdays thru Saturdays. The guys in my circle are feminine, dirty, and culturally pretentious because they wear skinny jeans, grow out their beards, and went to the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! show. To them, our underlying animosity toward the Greek scene exists only because we are simply incapable of handling it.

Because I believed in the frat stereotype and relished in my own indie branding, the very thought of Round Up terrified me. An entire weekend with a bunch of oddly dressed rich white kids in West Campus? My social failure was certain. I had a horrifying image in my head of me holding an empty Solo cup while awkwardly standing in a corner, watching endless rounds of beer pong, multiple keg stands, and rampant sloppy make-out sessions.

But I surprisingly and unabashedly enjoyed myself at Round Up, even though my Toms were clearly out of place in their sea of Sperrys. Their ceaseless enthusiasm pulled me into their festivities in what I can only describe as a scene of critical mass. The more of them, the harder they partied – the harder they partied, the more I became part of them. I, a proud member of the indie scene, united with the Greeks in an unlikely weekend of carefree celebration.

After all, what makes the Greek culture all that different from the hipster scene? We judge each other based on looks, affluence, connections, and attractiveness, so the only dissimilarity lies in how we express our social standing. The frat star may wear neon sunglasses with Texas flag shorts and drink from a beer bong to assert his dominance, while the scenester will wear the most obscure vintage band shirt and smoke hand-rolled joints to prove his indie-ness.

What unites us is the fact that we all simply try too hard to make ourselves known. The animosity between our two groups exists because we need this distinction in order to define ourselves. This practice of “othering” sadly leads us to believe that our differences overshadow our similarities, and we begin to identify ourselves by what we are not. Hanging out at the frat house the other night, the only way I could tell that the guys were frat stars and not scenesters was by the Greek letters on their shirts. They make the same jokes, watch the same shows, and have the same simple desire to have a good time as any group of scenesters do.

After my boyfriend graduates in May and my connection to the frat world has been severed, I probably won’t go out of my way to get back into the scene. I’ll just return to my side of the fence and reassert my indie nature knowing that I’ve seen the other world, and it’s not that much different."

10 March 2009

the basics

I just waited over five minutes for this page to load, so I'm going to add that to my list of things I won't miss about Dobie.


I've been doing a lot of Twittering lately, so if you haven't started it get on it. If you're already as cool as I am, you should totally show me some love. If you don't know what it is, the easiest way I can explain is is that it's just a site of Facebook updates. Yeah, sounds f-ing boring, but once you get started you can indulge yourself in letting people you don't know know exactly what you're doing. Think 25 Things, but on crack.

For a couple of weeks I felt like I was completely sucked into the sex educator program...I think I can probably give the MOC (methods of contraception) class from the top of my head. Besides that, I've been writing my column every other week for the Daily Texan, trying to keep up in class, and getting a boyfriend.

Mhmm, mhmm, wait, WHAT?

Yeah. 'Tis true. I had spent the past few weeks bitching about how lonely I was and how impossible it is to meet nice, decent-looking, funny, smart, and socially functional guys at UT. If you had a single conversation with me between the dates of, say, Feb. 12 and Mar. 5, I was probably uber depressed about my lack of any kind of romantic life at all.

And then I decided that no, I was fine. I didn't need a boyfriend (no one does, this is true), and single life was kind of fun after all. I could go out to parties (like I have all that many parties to be going to in the first place...but whatever, in the event that I somehow weasled my way into one) and flirt with whomever I wanted. If I had the desire to I could have a crazy, kinky, sweaty, passionate one night stand and not give my number the next morning. And I never had to worry about someone else, or analyze their thoughts and feelings, or let anything get in my way of my life plans. However non-existent they are, of course.

So I took everyone's advice and stopped looking. And so one found me.

He's not my "type," but I've never really had a solid kind. Let's see - an asshole Mexican, a douchebag redneck, a pretentious film buff, and an overly romantic poet. Okay, scratch what I said about "he's not my 'type'" because I'm full of shit. I'm like the United Nations of relationships. Or the Jolie-Pitt clan. Anywho, what matters is if I'm happy. And I am.

Meanwhile, I can't stop listening to Yo La Tengo's "Gentle Hour" and "You Can Have It All," and to Bon Iver, in general. Good stuff.

And although it would have been awesome to stay in Austin for SXSW or for mis amigos, I'm kinda looking forward to getting back home. I need a break from this dorm and from classes and the non-stop action. Actually I'd just love to have a week here without any responsibility. I'd get to do all the things that I've wanted to do in this lovely place but never had the time for. (This is also a big reason why I'm going to be a FIG mentor next year...I'll have an excuse, and an obligation, to do all these fun things.)

Okay, so it seems like the misses is about to get home and I need time to pretend to be asleep. Yeah, she probably doesn't read these things so it's all gravy. And also if you text someone and they say they're asleep, don't text them back! That just means that they have to roll their sleepy-ass bodies over and read your goddamn text to make sure you're not getting eaten by an ogre on the Drag.

I've got a lot of angst.

04 March 2009

cuatro. or is it cuarto?

No no, I think it's cuatro. It's either "four" or "room." But wait! This shall be my number...whatever.

16(?). When people mess up with their homophones (or whatever you call those words that sound almost exactly the same but aren't really) and say something completely ridiculous. I can't think of any right now, except for this one that was kinda lost in translation that my Spanish teacher told me in high school. So apparently "embarazada" in Spanish means "pregnant," but she didn't know that and she's hanging out with her friends one night and does something embarrassing. So she goes something like, "Estoy tan embarazada!" I'm so pregnant!

17. Kings of Leon.

18. Eating cookies or brownies when they're still warm and gooey and melt on your tongue in slippery, sweet succulence.

19. Saying horribly inappropriate things very loudly in public places and watching reactions. (Hence my delight when I said that I was going home to go eat my vagina and I freaked everyone out around me on 21st.)

20. Those few extremely clear moments that you have every once in a while when you realize just how ridiculous this world really is. How bloody complicated yet simple it can be, and how you're happy to be alive to be a part of some parts of it.

I promise to write a real entry some day. Maybe even today.

25 February 2009


I've been kinda down lately, so I'm going to have to try hard to come up with five more things. But they'll make me smile nonetheless.

11. Mason Jenning's and Jack Johnson's song "I Love You and Buddha Too." It's the hippiest shit ever, so I therefore love it. Highly recommend listening to it, especially if you've declared a jihad/crusade recently. (Btw, whoever thought that "Campus Crusade For Christ" is a good name for a group? Seriously guys, try to come up with something positive Christians have done in history...)

12. Another music one, but whatever. I really love the music mariachis play. Yeah, make fun of me. But usually only when women sing it and are really angry. And when you know a lot of tequila went into its production. Try Salma Hayak's rendition of "La Bruja" from Frida.

13. When you trip and no one else sees.

14. The first few minutes after yoga. I feel so good in my body and mind that I feel like a dumbass smiling everywhere I go afterwards...totally worth it.

15. When you know someone well enough to say what they are going to say before they have a chance. Not always, because that would be awful, but on those funny occassions when you feel completely synced with that person. I think some people call it getting your synergy on.

I feel a bit better now. I have yoga later, so I'm planning on feeling amazing by 6:30pm today.

17 February 2009


Today I'm adding some to relieve stress, since I have two exams tomorrow and another on Thursday.

6. When you get to the elevator and press the button and it's already there.

7. When you find money in your pocket that you'd completely forgotten about. Always happens in winter coats.

8. Doing something completely outlandish to make someone laugh who doesn't want to let you know that they want to laugh, so they kinda sit there with a stupid smirk on their face...but you can't let them know that you find it funny, so you have to hold in all that happiness inside. Ex: backing my ass up onto my roommate who really enjoys it but pretends she doesn't like it, but I can't laugh or I'll break the mood. That makes me smile.

9. Seeing a happy person in public that you don't know. I think we're often taught not to show our delight in public and sometimes people let it slip out. You see it in little smiles, and that makes me smile.

10. Seeing an artist or band that you love perform live. Always makes me smile.

Ahh...writing these things makes me feel almost as relaxed as after yoga.

16 February 2009

things that make me smile. uno.

I've decided that I'm going to start writing little things that make me smile in my blog since I have so little time to write anymore and little things are quick and easy. And they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Let's see...I'll write five things every time.

Here we go:

1. When people try too hard in yoga class and fart on accident. What makes it even more hilarious is that you're not allowed to laugh...almost unbearable.

2. (Cliche warning) The smell right before it rains and then again right afterward. It happened today when I was leaving class and a guy from it pointed it out to me. Way cool of him.

3. Randomly seeing people around UT. Makes you feel popular/loved (unless you don't want to see them because you A) hate every cell in their body, B) made out with them in drunken stupor last weekend and realize that they're butt ugly or a douchebag or both, or C) look like crap and don't want to seem like a slob).

4. Studying for a test and realizing that you pretty much already know it. RARE occurrence.

5. When you get to a store/restaurant right at closing time and they serve you. Makes you believe in humanity.

Feel free to share any happy moments in your life...I probably share them with you.

09 February 2009

Weekend Update

Yes, I am an awful person for abandoning my blog for scholarship applications, the Daily Texan, and other more-boring endeavors, and I can't excuse myself for this gross overlook. But seeing as I took some melatonin over an hour ago in order to curb the effect of all the caffeine I've taken in today, I'm bum tired.

Here are the essentials.

  • Next year I'll be living at 4111 Speedway. Not the cutest apartment, but near the IF and with huge rooms. Neighboring houses so cute I suspect dolls live in them. Randomly know the guy living in the room I'll be living in next year. Weird.
  • I just applied (like seriously just applied, as in a few minutes ago) to do HIV/AIDS education volunteering in Ghana after my Maymester ends. I'm excited as gravy to start. [Yeah, I'm so tired I think gravy is exciting.]
  • I'll be writing a column every other week for the Daily Texan. I'm much more enthusiastic about it than this reads.
  • I've finally started doing all my sex education things. Ask me when my next Methods of Contraception class is or when I'll be doing Sex Jeopardy/Mr. Condomhead/other workshop. I'm loads of fun.
  • I'm too tired/lazy to take the bulleting off this, so goodnight and good luck.

28 January 2009

Passive-Aggresive Herpes

Since I haven't written anything significant on here for a while (I've been writing loads of crap for other things), here's something funny I found on that I thought was appropriate because of my obsession with sex. Enjoy the site while I write scholarship/honors/class/competition essays...

23 January 2009

How Obama Saves Lives

Here's a column written by my favorite columnist ever, Nicholas D. Kristof, who writes for the New York Times on issues critical to the developing world and about our duty to respond to their plights. In this column, he describes how the Bush administration cut off funding to international organizations that provide abortions (or just information about them). These groups not only provide information and abortion services, but also supply vital birth control devices to developing countries (think condoms, IUDs, etc.).

What was ironic about Bush's idiotic policy was that in cutting off funding and supplies from these organizations, the administration actually helped increased the amount of unwanted pregnancies. This, in turn, leads to many more women seeking unsafe "back alley" abortions, especially in rural areas, and also higher rates of death during childbirth, both for mothers and their children. And, if all went well and the mother and child survived the birth, yet another mouth has been added to that family, one that probably cannot afford to have another child and one that will further exacerbate the vicious downward spiral of suffering and poverty.

But, thanks to the brains of Obama and his administration, the US has quietly reversed its stupid policy. To all those who would like to call Obama a baby killer, try to think for once. This policy will save more lives than Bush's ever killed. And Obama has stated many times that the US should focus more on pregnancy prevention rather than trying to deal with the unwanted pregnancies afterwards. (Meaning "fuck abstinence-only education, which certainly worked for Sarah Palin's daughter.")

[Oh, and if you read the first article, you'll see that when Palin was mayor of some bum-fuck town in Alaska, she charged rape victims for rape kits. We sure dodged a goddamn cannonball in '08!]

17 January 2009

For lack of a better title: Sick and Tired


1. Devon and Josh finally got together. Laura totally called it, and she is stoked about it. [She is also going to start planning the bachelorette party, which will be the sickest thing since disease.]

2. Clinton isn't coming back to Austin. (Woahhh, didn't see that one coming! haha) Oddly enough, I don't really care all that much. When I talked to him, I realized that he's so far away from me these days that he might as well be on another planet, which Corpus happens to be in a way. I'll analyze this more in a bit.

3. Completely ended any chance that I'd go out with S again. I realize that sounds like I flubbed up or something, but I did it on purpose. It needed to be said. Still trying to figure out how or if we can be friends without his further hurt.

4. An undevelopment - I still can't hear. I went to the Coop yesterday to get a shiny new daily planner and realized how unnerving it is to be in public by yourself and not be able to hear up to par. I guess every other time I've been in public with my hearing loss it was with other people, who acted like my crutch. Being alone and without much sound puts you in a daze you don't want to be in, where other people can't touch you and you desperately need that feeling. Also, it is quite scary to walk in the dark without proper hearing and have a vagina at the same time. I almost keyed some worker's eyes out last night.

Other than that, I've been existing. Yesterday I slept almost until noon, did some grocery shopping, went back to sleep, watched some movies, then went back to sleep. Woke up at noon today with no plans and nowhere to be. During the semester I know I'm going to wish that I could have a day with no commitments like these, but for now they just seem so empty. On another note, I would really like to go to the gym but I'm still sick and feel like crap. I'd also like to ride my bike but since I'm sick I get all snotty and tired when I do, plus I'm scared to death of riding in traffic. Bleh.

Well, my sickness can't last that long and school will start soon. In the meantime, I guess I'll do the dishes, try to pop my ears, and maybe take a shower somewhere in there. My legs are hairy.

[More pondering on Clinton and S in an upcoming blog dedicated to the men and a half in my life.]

13 January 2009

Getting Lei'd at the Block

I am in the space between.

The space between the fall and spring semester. The space between Corpus and Austin. The space between lack of focus and too much of it. The space between being here and not being.

Somehow I think people arrange their lives into nifty blocks. Block 1, my childhood. Block 2, rebellious teenager. Block 3, ignorant freshman. Block 4, ? But more specifically, we cordon little sections of these blocks into parts that we can handle. The section I was in before was the "get your work out of the way, get some play, and get some ass." It was a time of caring about school, but not too much, of loving deadlines but not the assignments. It was a time of having a good time (in moderation) so that only a few Saturdays and Sundays I woke up wanting to be dead. It was a time of fooling around with love and hormones, dancing between the pieces as they fell. It was a time of finally meeting myself.

The next block I am about to enter: I will rededicate myself to school to prevent my near academic downfall this past semester. I will look for and hopefully find and create a stable relationship with a person as happy to be lost as I am. I will get out more, see Austin, meet people. I will stay in touch and genuinely connect with those around me.

But where does that leave me for the next couple of days? Well, here in my room, using my computer monitor for ambient light while I type Carrie Bradshaw-like on my Macbook. I really regret not writing more about my life. I always feel that I write too much in my blogs (which many of you have argued), but when it's your life, that's all you will have. For what are our experiences to us if we lose them to time?

Now, this has been rather melancholy. Let's reboot.

Although I still can't hear properly out of either of my ears (as proven by my dad's iPhone application, which told me I have much worse hearing right now than my 50 year old parents), I'll try to write a little about Hawaii.

And since I told Josh I would make him a list of all the awesome things I did, here it goes:

  1. Went snorkeling in a coral reef. Not as cool as the Great Barrier, from what my parents and sister told me (how uncool is it that I'm the only one in my family never to have gone to Australia?), but it was pretty neat-o. Really weird fish live under the sea (unda' the sea, down where it's...)
  2. Went on a whale-watching cruise. Awesome part - saw humpback whales breathe, dive, and breach. Sucky part - got seasick with an accompanying migraine that made me puke as we were docking. Then I accidently put toilet paper in their no-toilet-paper-or-else-you-die toilet, so I had to fish it out with my bare (then barfy) fingers.
  3. Saw Hawaii from a helicopter. Yeah, that was awesome. Although this is when my ear troubles began, it was quite worth it. I hadn't been in a helicopter before, so the experience was awwwwwesome. We saw a beached military ship that has since rusted, some wicked waterfalls, and chased deer with it. Dude, they really do have deer and we really did get to chase them with the helicopter. Righteous.
  4. Biked down a volcano. Minus the ear pain, it was sweet. We went up to about 10,000 feet (in a van, of course) and looked out at the volcano's crater, and then went back down to 6,000 feet and rode downhill. It's crazy how much speed you pick up going downhill on a 40-pound bike - I swear we just about wore out the brakes on the bikes. And although I had much more to think about on the bike, I appreciated the scenery much, much more than in the car. It was a sense of oneness with everything around you - the wind was in your ears (or, in my case, one of my ears) and on your skin, the sun touched you just as it touched everything else, and the sound of rubber on the pavement, speeding and turning, felt oddly powerful. Good stuff.
  5. Ziplined around the island. Yeah, I'm totally a natural at it...not to brag. But they told me there's a zipline around Austin, so I've gotta try it now. Any takers?
  6. Sat on a beach all day, without getting a sunburn.
  7. Drove on a road with 517 turns, 100-something bridges (about half of them one-lane), where the speed limit was 15 miles per hour and which had some breathtaking scenery. It was also breathtaking in that my mom, sister, and I were scared out of our whits that we were about to plummet to our gruesome deaths as a result of my father's driving techniques.
  8. Oh, and got a lei put around my neck by a nice Hawaiian man. (Okay, okay, it was the concierge, but who's counting?)
So yes, my trip was very satisfying. Oddly enough, it made me think about Corpus and what my town could be. We've barely tapped into the whole surfing/kayaking/kiteboarding/paddleboarding culture and instead focus on cheap strip malls and cheesy festivals. But Corpus will never be a Hawaii...figure that.

Oh, and one of my New Years Resolutions is to start being more punctual about returning calls/texts/posts/etc. I'm quite the bitch about that. But actually, I guess you can't call it a resolution for the new year since it's already halfway into January. I also agree with Josh, that you can change any time you want, so why make it the first?'s my resolution - to keep making resolutions as the year goes on!

Oh, you're a slick one.

10 January 2009

Can I hear you now?

So Hawaii was great fun, which I will detail later, but for now I will bitch and moan about my illness.

So I got sick the day before we left, just the basic cold. It kinda sucked while we were there because I was always so damn tired and just wanted to sit on the beach all day (which is why most people go to Maui in the first place, but whatevs, not me).

Our first full day on the island we went on a whalewatching boat ride, which would have been awful fun if I hadn't got awful seasick. I nearly made it to shore without throwing up, but being Laura, I puked when we were docking. Yay me!

Then we decided to go on a helicopter ride and while we didn't go terribly high, I knew something was terribly wrong with my ears. They wouldn't pop. And from then on, I couldn't hear very well.

The day before we left we went biking down a volcano, which would have been crazy fun if my eardrums hadn't gone crazy on me. Weird popping, twisting, snotting noises coming from them (in my head, at least). Pain. (Oh, this volcano was about 10,000 feet high, which accounts for why my ears didn't take a liking to it.)

So we left the next day and my ears did pretty well on the ascent. But, being parts of Laura, they decided to fuck up going into Dallas at 5 am. It was one of the most painful memories I can conjure up at the moment. I felt like my ears were going to implode and leave a gaping hole in my skull, which sounds kinda cool thinking about it after the fact, but at the moment it was torture. Damn planes and their quick descents. And the flight to Corpus wasn't all shits and giggles either...more pain, accompanied with the strangest noises coming from my eardrum.

My dad looked at my ears that morning and said that the capillaries in my eardrums had burst, which often happens to divers, or some shit like that. What had happened was that I had trapped fluid in my ear when I was sick, which isn't good for helping ears change their pressure. So the stress or something from that caused my capillaries to burst, which isn't a very comfy feeling. But I was reassured that they would get better, yadayadayada.

But then they kept getting worse. I could hear less and less the longer I waited to get better, plus I had the same kind of sore throat I had when I first got sick. One night I couldn't sleep. At all. The pain was horrendous from my left ear, so I couldn't sleep and instead watched TV all frickin night. When I talked to my mom in the morning, she goes, "Oh, you've been taking your doxycycline [an antibiotic I sometimes take for acne issues], right?" To which I replied, "I told you two days ago that I stopped taking it a while ago."

And then she says, "Ohhh...well, your ears are probably getting infected."

Yay. Fucking. Me.

I've barely left the house since I got home because I feel so damn awful. I had the worst case of fever aches last night, the worst I've had since I was about five. I can't hear much of anything, so I have to watch TV at ridiculously loud levels, and I can't really listen to music because nothing I have in Corpus can get my music to the level that I need to hear it. I'm too tired to read, plus my eyes have fever hurt in them, so my existence is miserable at the moment.

Feel bad for me.

[A more positive post should come soon. I have loads to say about Maui and my theories on childhood illness and all that good stuff, but I'm having trouble concentrating at the moment. The sickness has gone to my head...literally. Like, I wouldn't be surprised if the infection leaks into my brain and eats away whatever is still left.]