a new year?

Hmmm.... it's a new year and I haven't posted since last year!  It's late and I should be sleeping, but we'll do a quick update.

1) work continues to be awesome and I love it.  a couple weeks ago a man passed out in the radiology department.  ER staff was called over, and I followed my doc- let's call him Fred.  They started CPR.  Fred grabbed some trauma shears, and starting cutting the man's coat off him.  Well, it was one of those coats which is packed with feathers, so when he cut into it, the feathers exploded.  All of a sudden, you had 6 people in a radiology lobby, crowded around a man, performing CPR and breathing for him with a bag-valve mask.... with feathers which appeared like snow, floating all around them.  There was something kind of magical about it, and I'm afraid I can't begin to do it justice in this description.  It was kind of like a movie... with some Sarah McLachlen song playing in the background.

2)  I've started exercising again recently!  (And by recently, I mean-- this week haha.)  For the next few weeks, it will be hot yoga.  After that, my special groupon deal (20 sessions for $40) will expire, and then I'll probably just join a gym or something.  I made a deal with my physiatrist that I have to be exercising regularly to get another round of Botox.  And (dun dun dun!) if I don't, he has permission to give me a talking-to.  Yikes!

3)  Speaking of Botox, I got some back in October.  No, it's not for wrinkles (which I wouldn't have anyways, as I'm in my early-mid 20's), it's for migraines.  The idea is that it paralyzes muscles in the head which contribute to the migraines.  My insurance approved 2 rounds of it.  1 round usually lasts 2-3 months. I think it really helped-- the fact that I was able to work like crazy without any intense, long-lasting, or hard-to-treat migraines popping up is my testament to that.  I believe it's worn off now, as in the past couple weeks I feel like I'm starting to get migraines a little more frequently.  Another thing the Botox seemed to help with was my constant, low-grade headache.  I've had that headache 24/7 for 5 or 6 years now.  I think there were a couple points about a month or two ago when that headache was almost gone.  I remember driving and thinking "do I have a headache?"  It's a little hard to tell sometimes when you're used to it being there all the time, so it took me a moment.  I had just the slightest pressure in my forehead, so it was still there, but just barely.  Tiny enough that I almost wonder if I thought it into existence.  On a pain scale of 1-10, I would have rated it in that moment as a 0.5.  Which is awesome.  The idea with the second round of Botox is that even after the Botox wears off, the relaxing effect on my muscles will be more permanent, leaving a long-term relief.  Last time my doc only gave me shots in a few places in my head (a couple in the forehead, a couple on each side of the head, and a couple at the back of the head).  Next time we'll do a bunch of shots all over.  That will kind of suck while it's happening, but I'm positive will be more than worth it 5 days later when the stuff starts kicking in.

In case you couldn't tell, I get really excited about medical stuff and the prospect of my migraines being better.

4)  I've started thinking about Med school.  It's a long way off as I don't even have an AA yet (which fact I have accepted and is only slightly distressing to me nowadays), but the more I work at my job, the more I could see myself being a doctor.  I think it's work I would really really enjoy.  What would I want to specialize in?  I dunno.... Emergency medicine, neurology, physiatry, and hem/onc are all on my mind.  Surgery would be cool because I like looking at guts, but I have a feeling I wouldn't actually go with it.  Anyways, that's all far off, and so for now, jsut a dream.  ... Just a dream that I'll start working towards.

5)  Related to that, I'm sad to not be in school right now.  But I prayed about it, and I really feel that right now is a time to take a break from school.  Focus on my health.  Pay off some debt.  Save up some money. Etc etc.  I also think that it's been good for my pride to have my education pursue a more delayed, alternate route.  If I had graduated at age 21 or 22 like I had planned, there's a chance I might be a bit of a snoot.  Not on purpose, of course, but I think it could happen.  It's also been good to learn that God is in charge of my life- not me.  Oh, and perhaps one of the most important lessons is something along the line of Heavenly Father loves me, no matter what, and I am of value to Him even if I have not accomplished what I thought I should have by now.  One can be a good, successful person, without achieving many milestones which the world values as most important.  That whole idea is a whole other post in itself.

6)  My auntie got me a kindle for Christmas.  I've had my nose stuck in that thing ever since.  It's nice to feel like a book worm again.

7)  I'm tired from being extroverted and peppy last year.  It's time for sleep and time to myself.  And family.  And close friends.


I think we'll call that it for now.  It's super late, as I didn't get off work till after midnight.  I'll leave something amusing with you.  Was talking to a friend when he asked, "have you ever wondered how someone feels having a disease named after them?"  naturally, the conversation turned to naming a disease after him.

Meet the Rutherford Reaction: a temporary, psychosomatic reaction, usually in un-married persons, triggered by interactions with the opposite sex.  criteria for diagnosis: 1) an erythematous, non-pruritic, non-maculopapular rash of the skin over the zygomatic arch, 2) a subjective fever, 3) disequilibrium, and 4) agoraphobia.

What would the Sager Syndrome be??

can't sleep, and i've never liked counting sheep

my first interesting (and inane) note, is how on commas. you see, as i was typing the title to this post, i put a comma right up there after "can't sleep".  my elementary school training tells me that's not necessary, but rather optional.  because it's coming before "and".  i believe there was some movement to take commas away from before "and". or at least be okay with a lack of them.  at least, that's what i recall mrs. bowers in the fourth grade telling me.  or was it mrs. rossall in the fifth?  anyways, when i was in training for my absolutely wonderful new scribe job, my supervisor told me i didn't put enough commas in.  she'd go over histories of present illness i'd written, and stick in a bunch of commas(an HPI the part of the patient's chart where you sum up all the stuff they told you about what's wrong with them today). we had a nice discussion about commas following this.  she's only a few years older than i, and so i wonder- did the anti-comma movement begin with my generation?  or is it just me?  so in order to make her happy, i began putting commas in all sorts of grammatically appropriate places which i had never previously done.  and i'm still doing it.  it makes me chuckle.
oh, and i'm not sure if this is related or not, but most physicians (and scribes) seem to be against double spacing between sentences.  i've observed doctors go over my HPI and removethe double spaces.  i adapt, and then remind myself that they probably didn't major in english.  oh, except there is one doctor who does use them, and i get excited because then i can type the way i'm trained to-- with double spaces after my periods.  except i think the habit might be wearing a little thin, because in writing this i'm havign to consciously remind myself to double space.
i flash back to that time in sixth grade when my mom, english major and all, reviewed an essay i wrote.  i remember her informing me that i needed to double space between sentences.  i told her my teacher didn't ask for that.  she responded that it's the proper thing to do, and even if my teacher didn't ask for it, i should do it anyways.  so i did.  and it became a habit.  and i never remember anyone else making a fuss about it during my school career, so either i learned my lesson, or no one cared.  or both.  but i'm glad that my mom taught me to double space.

now, if you didn't consider those previous 3 paragraphs a waste of your time, i'll just keep babbling.  and if you did, but you're still reading for some reason anyways, i'll just keep babbling all the same.

so it's 3am and i can't sleep.  why?  a few reasons.  the first being that i am a night owl by nature.  even if i get into the habit of waking early, it doesn't take much at all to get me back into my night owl-y ways.  second reason, work.  i worked night shift recently, and then some late nights since.  add that to the spring quarter being over and therefore no reason to be out of bed at 7am after working till midnight the previous night, and you have night-owlishness.  on top of that, i didn't really make it to my morning classes regularly for the last two weeks of spring quarter.  'cuz my migraines started acting up.
yeah, i should have expected as much.  and i'm pretty sure i know exactly what happened.  you see, i registered for classes full-time.  and then i started a new job.  and i still tried to spend some time with family, and have a social life, and date.  and go to church.  i was really excited at the beginning of all this, because i feel satisfied when my life is full.  when i am busily engaged in multiple good things, feel like i'm moving forward in my life, and have meaningful relationships with the people around me, i feel content.  more than content, actually.  i'm happy, and excited, and super grateful.
i knew before the quarter started that i should be looking for a job, and that i should be working.  i recall feeling confident about going to school full-time.  i was nervous about adding work to that challenge, but i knew the impression to work and go to school was an impression from my Heavenly Father.  i trusted that since that was what He wanted me to do, i would be able to do it.  and for a few weeks i did.  honestly, if i didn't have the health problems that i do, i think i would have been able to keep it up.  but that's what made me feel so grateful- i knew that there was no way without the aide of God and His angels that i could work and go to school.  and truly, even just the few weeks that i did do it and stay on top of things were nothing short of miraculous, especially when juxtaposed with my academic and health histories.

but let's catch up to where i am now.  the quarter's over and i still haven't finished my classes.  i have an arrangement with my teachers, so there's hope, but it still makes me nervous.  and i'm nervous about my future.  it kind of sucks not being able to count on the long term plans i make because my health problems have a habit of never resolving and popping back up with a vengeance for months at a time at least a few times yearly.  i like doing things, and i like making plans.  it's hard to feel limited in my ability to do both.
oh, and there's the whole thing about wanting to get married.  and have a family.  i don't want to rush into anything, and indeed, i find some fulfillment from simply getting to know and befriend the single guys around me.  i've been pretty happy with the state of my love life as of late.  but my attitude changes a little bit when i get sick, and am subsequently cooped up for days on end (where did that expression come from anyways?  when you break it down, it really doesn't mean anything... reminds me of a conversation my buddy stan and i had about the english language versus ancient languages).  in these cases, i really just want someone to have at home, to cuddle with in bed while i feel like crap and my hair is a mess.  and someone whom i don't have to worry about losing a chance with or dealing with those silly dating situations when i want to cancel, reschedule, or just change what we're doing for a date because i don't feel up to doing much.
and just so we're clear, i'm not saying that i'm looking for a cuddle-buddy.  those are nice, i guess, but mostly useless, and confusing.

also, i'm pretty sure i just babbled about a bunch of stuff to put on my public blog which i wouldn't have if i weren't both sleep-deprived and migraining.  like, my brain does weird things with migraines and pain.  one of them being a lessening somewhat in inhibitions.  dunno if anyone other than those super close to me would notice, but it happens.  i get to the point where i do something or consider doing something and just don't have the mental energy to decide whether or not to actually do it or say it, and then i just decide that it's what i'm really thinking and if the person i'm talking to loves me, or is at least a kind reasonable person, won't judge me if it comes out sounding stupid or crazy or childish or something.  because by rule i'm not stupid, childish, or crazy (technically speaking).

and i have no way to neatly sum up all of these thoughts.  there's a phrase commonly used by scribes to sum up HPI's.  first we say what the patient is complaining of, how long they've been experiencing it, any accompanying symptoms, risk factors or other pertinent information, and then we list a bunch of pertinent things they're not experiencing.  "so-and-so complains of shortness of breath, but denies any loss of consciousness, chest pain, palpitations, nausea, or vomiting" is important to note because it indicates they're probably not having a heart attack.  or "so-and-so complains of a laceration to his forearm after falling off his dirt bike, but denies any weakness, numbness, or tingling" is good to note because it indicates they probably don't have any nerve or muscle damage.
anyways.... after these things in the HPI, there are two magical phrases we use to wrap it all up.  "S/he is otherwise in good health with no additional complaints" and "s/he is otherwise in her normal state of health with no additional complaints."  it sums things up nicely (the latter is particularly good for people with lots of health problems who only come into the ER because they got a scratch that needs to be stitched up).

so, to sum up this post, i am otherwise in my normal state of health, with no additional complaints.

and here's a pretty picture for you to look at, just for making it to the end of this post.  i got these from my dad when i had my sinus surgery back in february.  pretty, eh?

to the man whose face i never saw

we stood in a semi-circle
waiting for you.
they rolled you in
pounding, pounding, pounding.
on your chest.

in the corner i stood,
never was one more
a fly on the wall
than me.
i saw it all.
pen in hand.
yellow notepad.
my job was to scribble. scribble. scribble.
everything i heard....

27 year old male.
epinephrine times seven.
he said ten minutes ago.
it's 1050 now.

tall man in blue suit.
pounding on your chest.
down. up, down. pound, pound, pound.

atropine. duoneb.
what are those drugs?
calcium. magnesium.
those can be used for the heart?
history of asthma.
collapsed in driveway.
you were on your way here.

purple scrubs. middle aged woman.
down, up, down. pound, pound, pound.

cordarone.
how do i spell that?
epi-pen
twice by family, IM.

man in green scrubs,
badge dangling over your body-

why do you have an epi-pen?

up, down. up, down. pound, pound, pound.

twelve minutes of CPR
before the ambulance came.
they found you in PEA.
he thinks he heard breath sounds on scene.
atropine.
what is atropine?

x-ray. ultrasound.
pound, pound, pound.
never stopping.

at the computer,
the lead nurse is typing.
“how many milligrams?”
“what size tube?”

the pounding arms get weary.
the second blue-suited man
moves fluidly to your side.
with a towel around his neck,
(he’s getting a work-out)
he moves his body
down, up, down.
over you, his hands go 
pound, pound, pound.

pound. pound. pound.
down, up, down.
with each impact of coupled fists,
I see, side to side,
your protuberant mass shift..

another nurse. he is pulling off your pants.
"do we have any scissors?"
naked.
you're all naked.
will someone please cover him up?
they keep pounding on your chest.
and the bag-valve mask goes,
pump. pump. pump.

i say nothing, but the nurse sees what i mean.
naked. you’re all naked.
except the blanket now covering your groin.
a small sign of respect.

your doctor is by your side.
you’ve never met him.
he's trying to save your life.

"a sterile gown!"
over his suit and tie.
shoes only a little more mature
than convers
peep out beneath his pants.

everyone gets a turn.
now it’s curly ponytail girl, in her green scrubs.
she moves down, up, down.
her hands go, pound, pound, pound.

blade and scissors in hand,
your doctor cuts into your side.
your blood on his hands.
he's trying to save your life.

“it’s been 45 minutes,” he says
“5 more and he’s dead.”
and as an afterthought,
“he’s already dead”
...by definition.

your body moves up, down, up,
with each fists’ pound, pound, and pump, pump.


until the doctor is at your side,
ultrasound in hand.
the pounding and pumping stop.
all voices stop.he finds
your blood flow has stopped.

blood on his sterile gown,
blood on his outstretched hands-
he turns-
facing the nurses, the techs, and the EMTs
(and the random hospitalist, too):
“does anyone have any more ideas?”

silence.

1102.

my mom is hilarious

This is a recent ad she placed on craigslist....

Big Black Sectional Sofa / Couch - $25 

SAVE BIG BLACK!!! Big Black needs a new home. It has served us well for years, but we're tossing her aside for a younger model with microfiber and color.
The far left section of Big Black includes a reclining seat, which provides perfect comfort for watching both football and dancing with the stars. It also has put in many years of sci-fi and homework support. We have paired it nicely with both floral and striped pillows and it's always happy to keep a throw handy on a cold winter's eve. As the pictures attest, it is in pretty good shape although it is starting to show its age a bit on the most loved cushions. A couple of the back panels have small tears, but these are actually quite subtle and well hidden if against the wall (and could easily be disguised by a small strategically placed bit of black tape).
The right section includes a hide-a-bed that worked well until the "pig-pile incident" of late 2011. We thought 20-something adult children could count a bit better, but alas, The Black did sustain some damage that night. The hide-a-bed now hides well, it just doesn't un-hide to become-a-bed so well. If someone was handy and had the right sort of crow bar and patience, that could probably be remedied. However, as my husband's strengths run more toward IT and emergency response issues, and I'd rather play in the garden, we're happy to let someone else take a crack at it and help the Black regain some of her multi-purpose glory.
Big Black is actually REAL LEATHER on the front/facing cushions (we think the back may be "leatherette" or some similar cowhide imposter), which disguises a million faux and real paw prints and cleans up beautifully with a few clorox wipes and a vacuum hose attachment. It comes in three sections. The bed section is fairly bulky and heavy. The others are just bulky. So you'll probably need two people who can lift and maneuver well.
Not bad for $25, eh? We might even consider "OBO" as well if it meant the Black would be truly appreciated and well cared for.
p.s. We're hoping Big Black will go on Saturday so as to avoid an awkward encounter with her replacement. Please text 206-555-5555 to Save Big Black. 

It should be noted that my mom bought Big Black's replacement for $10 :)

sleepless... in seattle?

Okay, so it's really late/early?--early, and, you guessed it, I woke up and can't sleep! So... some unstractured babbling is in order, just for the heck of it. (that is my warning to anyone to whom whether or not the babbling is structured or not matters)
I like sleeping- I wish my schedule weren't getting all wonky. I hope it doesn't mess up Christmas for me too much- I mean, as in spending time with my family and friends and whatnot.
Ha.... a friend of mine made me laugh today when Friend called to ask about Mutual Buddy. It's kinda weird that I know Mutual Buddy better than Friend does, tho as to why that is weird I'm sorry, but I won't say.
My step-dad's watch alarm just went off 'cuz it's hit the hour.
I fixed my alarm clock back to the normal time (I messed it up when I was setting the alarm the other day- suffice it to say that the alarm didn't do me any good in that instance).

I'm wondering at my mental state this past week. The week, overall, is somewhat of a big Blur. Maybe it's just because I have been home almost the entire time with nothing terribly eventful occurring... or maybe it's because of near back-to-back migraines which leave me in a mental Fog.
Honestly, I'm prone to think it's a little of both.
The first half or so of the week I could really quite easily tell that my mental condition was, well, not quite up to par. That was fairly interesting. It reminded me somewhat of when I was on the Topadope- thinking not so clear and whatnot. I also didn't talk much many of the days. That was either due to me being home alone, or with migraine. A few times I babbled pretty normally, but that was mostly on the phone- which phoning was usually made when I had to do dishes or something and needed someone to talk to in order to distract me enough from my body so I could perform said chore.
My family isn't so good at that task. Brother will sometimes babble well for me, Sister- when not otherwise occupied- is actually rather good at it, Second Sister.... erm, I don't ask her, Stepdad ... haven't asked him either, Mom is usually too tired.... So I often resort to friends for said task. I'm grateful for their willingness to oblige.
I went shopping with a Friend yesterday and that was interesting- thinking/conversationing-wise- because she would be talking about something and I'd find that any reply I could think of really didn't add or mean anything, so I was just silent and listened and people-watched as we walked along. This may be somewhat strange for me- to sort of filter what I say like that, I suppose, and/or to have nothing to say (in response)- and so Friend at some point stopped and looked at me. "Are you okay" Erm, yeah, why? "'cuz you haven't been saying anything." Oh. Whoops. I guess I need to work more on my 'uhms' and 'yeahs'- I think I'm starting to loose them. And then later, "Are you alright?" ....Yeah, why? "You look sad." Oh, really? Huh that's funny....
The last was actually pretty interesting to me. It's happened a few times to me, where someone looks at me and says "you look (insert emotion here)" and I say, really? 'Cuz that's not how I feel- not in the slightest. Weird. Perhaps when I'm thinking about stuff and being more internal about it whatever I'm thinking or feeling doesn't make it out to my face. I think that might be it- the internal part of it all.

SlEeP lIsT
Okay, for fun, I'll give a little list of things that my mind often wanders towards while I try to go to sleep:
-this or this
-these
-this/this, these, and wishing for one of these that worked
-impendingness of this, unless it's already come, then I would be thinking about about one or more interesting things.
-my people
-things relating to this

OK, I'll go pick one or more of those now.
Good night/morning.

Note: Sorry if the grammar, punctuation, wording, etc. are a bit unorthodox/strange/ambiguous-- it's late/early and my thought-to-normal speech translator isn't at its normal capacity. Of course, as you've noticed above, I'm sure, said translator hasn't been functioning at its best most of the week. :)

de-stuck-ification

So I have this essay I have to finish for a class I already took but didn't finish, and I've been avoiding really digging in and accomplishing much. Now it's getting down to the wire and I'm afraid that I must actually write... Bear with me, please, as I babble. Or you can just not read this. Whichever.

Now we'll try a prompt... Why am I stuck? (Wait a moment while I find some nice background music for myself... my playlist? hopefully it won't get too distracting... otherwise I'll opt out for classical later....)

Why am I stuck?
aside from the fact that I've procrastinated... but then it comes down to- why have i procrastinated? enough questions.
my first thought is-- i haven't done enough research. i don't know enough about bone marrow transplants to write and essay on them. some little stubborn voice inside me says- so what! who said that a research essay about bone marrow transplants had to be just about the technical aspect? you've done other research- lots of it! you've talked to roo and interviewed her, gone thru emails, and watched her live the effects of the transplant and the illness that necessitated it. that is research enough for a pretty strong essay foundation. you have put a lot of thought into it all- even if most of that time, that thought has been in the back of your head. processing, as it were. okay then, so just get type and get those digesting thoughts digested and forming a final product- even if that product isn't pretty, it is much more substantial than it would be if it were still stuck in your bowels. (sorry readers for the gross metaphor/analogy-ing... that's just the way i've come to think, i guess. i guess it's similar to using roo's stomach hole as a body part when we played mad libs.) if you don't like the product, then flush it down the toilet. at least it will then be out of your system and you'll be able to to better digest other thoughts, hopefully producing something, though rough and unpolished and maybe even somewhat incoherent, you may still produce something worth revising and finishing. cutting chunks of something or other out of a big rock until you get a chunk that might just have potential, then scraping it around with your knife or whatever other tools you have, forming it into a lovely little stone to be quite admired. and so, don't be afraid to babble and produce some crappy work. there's a reason that rough drafts might just have the label "crap". so finish up the digestion process and produce some already!!
alrighty then, if i don't have to worry so much about the amount of research i've done (i could do tons and still feel uncomfortable), what am i worrying about?
and there it is... it's the fact that i will be writing about a dear friend. how do i do her justice in writing about her? i need to be honest- blunt. i need to get as close as i can to expressing truth, or rather-- to presenting truth, in such a manner that allows others to analyze it on their. and trust, that people will analyze the material appropriately and come to the correct conclusions. isn't that what good writing does? presents some material, then guides the reader to the well of truth, hoping that they may just partake of it themselves.... you can lead a horse to water, but you have to trust him to decide whether or not to drink.
okay, so the essay will be about not the oversweeping arching topic of bone marrow transplants in general- forget donnell e. thomas. forget the fact that the assignment was to write about something that happened the year i was born. put in italics at the top, if you feel you must, this message- "the year i was born, dr. donnell e. thomas recieved a nobel prize for his pioneering work with bone marrow transplants. this is a story about a recipient of the fruits of his labors- an evidence of the noble work he has done and how it has altered our world, leaving it better." then be done with all thought of trying to tie in your birth year.

a bone marrow transplant kept my friend here. for seven years. an early death, she knew was inevitable. if only i had known! if only i had taken the time and the courage to talk to her more about it! instead, i ignored the fact. disbelieved it. when she died, it slapped me in the face. her long fight for her life was over. i thank my God that it lasted as long as it did, and in the next breath, i think Him that it is over. most of all- i thank my God for the gift of my friend.
a bone marrow transplant brushes death. most of us walk down the sidewalk, see Death further along the way, and cross the street, hoping that doing so will discourage him and cause him to leave. a patient and her caregivers see Death not too far down the road, and realize that they can't cross the street to the other side. Death will come. so they mosey on up to him, look him in the eye, shake his hand, and say "please, go down the way a bit more and wait for me there. i'd like to walk along this sidewalk a bit longer." and then they keep walking, acutely aware of Death's proximity, but not knowing how far ahead he may actually be, or even if he is just walking by their side. is he laughing at how you boldly shook his hand? or is he respecting you for that boldness, and willing to wait for you to go with him a little while?
roo's bone marrow was Death's accomplice. first there was the aplastic anemia. (reference Anemia.) then there was the myelodysplasia.

i'll come back to this later. time for a break.

after "voices off"- KW play

november 16, 2006 10:59pm

Soo... I'm home now.... and strangeness...... so, I called my folks and asked if they could come pick me up- lo and behold, they were in bed!! how's that work?! Well, Scott had somehow thought that I did have a ride home, when we really hadn't talked about that at all... in fact, I'm not sure why he thought I had a ride home.... so, I'm thinking, anyone here left that I know and feel comfortable getting a ride home from? nope.

so I call and scott's grumpy "i thought you had a ride... alright... i'll come pick you up...." and then i see john-o. "hi john-o!"
"hi" (by the way, the setting is outside of the PAC on the sidewalk)
"could i get a ride home from you?" I said it extremely quickly and proubly rather quietly 'cuz I'm feeling rather embarrased at this point, and i'm pretty sure i had my hands clasped togethor (or very nearly since I had stuff in 'em) in some sort of pleading supplication
"what?" he looked confused
"i'm sorry- could i-uhm.... possibly... get a... ride-home-from-you?" I'm nervous here... the most i ever say to him is "hey john-o! what's my name?" and "how are you?" and "haven't seen you in awhile!" and "well, see ya later! have a nice day!" pretty generic... however, since he's a member of the church (even if he is inactive... what a silly-billy....) i guess i feel more comfortable going out of my acquaintance comfort zone thingie.... did any of that make sense to you? well, anyhow... back to our regularly scheduled conversation...
john-o responds slowly, giving me a quizzical look "uhm... if you really need one"
i wince- why did i wince?? probably because i was embarrassed (it didn't help that when i was having difficulties in the restroom after the play i heard john-o come up to christine in the foyer and then a few seconds later hear her say "IBS... I-B-S... I..B...S...!!" and I can just imagine her fingerspelling it as she says it to Davy Jones knows who, hopefully not John-o 'cuz I don't know him well enough to have him know that... or maybe I do, and it's just different to have someone else tell someone that I've got Irritable Bowel Syndrome... well anyhow, I was embarrased enough from that, so putting myself in an embarrasing situation just maximized my embarrasment... ugh!) "yeah... I really do... need a ride" i feel like i'm apologizing
he looks at me slowly and narrows his eyes like he's thinking- gad-dungit! why do you have to take so long to answer! if you're gonna gimme a ride i need to call my step-dad and tell him that!! "where do you live?"
"about five minutes from here?"
..."which way?"
"that way" I point
"uhm... okay"
i apologize for asking and explain (not very well) that my step-dad didn't know he was supposed to pick me up and... i'm not sure i made sense.... so i quickly call scott back, "i'm just about to leave right now, cassanndre" he says
"no no no- i have a ride! you don't need to..... from who- from john-o.... John-O!... he's... a guy in the stake. yeah- i'm sure. yeah. okay. thanks. you're welcome. okay. bye" john-o's just watching me, and I'm praying that he doesn't think i'm some sort of crazy person who randomly asks people she doesn't know very well for rides and likes to take advantage of their driving skills...

I sigh in relief as we walk towards his car... wait as he unlocks it and climb in, moving a receipt on the passenger seat out onto the floor with its kindred reciepts.
"sorry, my car's a mess" everyone says that when there's just stuff lying around like that
"oh no- it's like my mom's"
silence. he backs up and turns in the direction to get out of the parking lot.
i tell him, as i had a few minutes earlier, that "i really enjoyed the play. it was pretty cool"
"it was stressful"
i look at him- "oh yeah- you had to learn it pretty quick didn't you?"
John-O nods. "yeah, in a week, on top of school and everything..." and he kind of mumbles there, or maybe my brain just short circuited 'cuz I could have sworn he said internet and classes or something... I directed him to the Savana neighborhood, and then tried to clarify his classes- online at greenriver? is that what you said? no? oh, highline, cool. yeah, that sounds like it would be hard to memorize all that with your classes. It was, he says. Silence. Again. I shift in my seat. This is sooo uncomfortable! I barely even know this guy- most of what I know from him is second-hand, like an older sibling that handed down their used clothes, friends have handed down information about him to me. How else would I know he's been inactive for a year? I didn't until tonight when Christine told me... ugh. I feel slow. And John-O is driving just how I feel- slow. And hesitant. I realze that I haven't told him what to do after turning into the neighborhood. I instruct him on where to turn next and that it's not for a little bit. "oh okay" he says and speeds up to a more steady pace.
in retrospect, i could have said many things to ease the tension. i could have pointed out that he got a goatee since the last time i saw him (i think he looks better w/ it that he did w/out it, actually... i always thought he looked kinda funny, but with the goatee thingie he looks... good-looking), I could have talked about how during the play I wondered if some of the pretend mess-ups were real ones. About how I missed a bit after the intermission (leaving out the fact that I was in the bathroom and my stomach hurt really really bad at that time) and what happened during the very beginning of act two? I could have commented on the British accents and confessed that I am hopeless when it comes to imitating accents... or that my brother is hopeless as well, except for he doesn't quite know it yet.

And to any of these, John-O would have responded with something rather funny to say, and I would have laughed and felt more at ease.
But of course, that didn't happen, because I was preoccupied at how peculiar it was to be getting a ride home from him. I felt slightly awkward when I was alone in the car with Blake once, and he's one of my really good friends. And plus, my mind was in a flurry and I really wasn't thinking clearly.

It ended just fine, John-O got confused and remarked on figuring out how to get to my house- "that's tricky" and pulled in. I thanked him much for the ride and told him I really appreciated it. "no problem" he says easily, and I began to believe it and have my anxiety alleviated.

Having typed that all out now, I am reasonably sure that when I asked for a ride home John-O didn't think I was some crazy person. I think he was just surprised. I mean, really, it's not like he was expecting it or anything. And my abrupt, anxious manner- yeah, that probably didn't help at all with clarifying things, it probably just surprised and confused him more. So I need not fear that he thinks I'm a freak, I think once he figured out what was going on, I was a normal, fairly unconfusing, person again. Oh goody.

That goatee thing works pretty well for him.

in progress... a special community (??)

So, I currently am not enjoying how my community essay is going along (the one about greenriver and seminary), so I am going to see what will happen if I change my subject entirely. I am toying with the idea of writing about the community in the developmentally disabled section of the special education division of my high school. I will edit this post as I come along with my writing, so just be aware that what you see now may not be what it'll look like in a day or two (until I tell you that I'm done writing it and have moved on to another draft). Also, I have initialized the names for privacy purposes, and I have changed details here and there (and will change more along the way) for the same reason as well.
~Cassanndre


"No hitting, no kicking.... No hitting, no kicking!!" I look over at M. as he leans forward in his chair, looking assertively into F.'s eyes.
"Good job?" F. asks, his voice low and garbled as if he were a human sublifer underwater.
"No, not a good job." M. states firmly. Not with malice, but with a stern and clear voice. M. points to the small room to his right, "go bounce", he says as he stands up and positions his body as a wall between F. and the rest of the room, so F. has nowhere to go from his chair at his desk but to the small room with the large blue ball on which to bounce.
A strange sight, I always think when M. works on correcting F.'s inappropriate behavior. F. is on the tall side of average, while M. is on the rather short side, being no more than two inches taller than my 5 foot 2 inch self. Very strange that someone as small as M. can so effectively head off aggressive behavior from F. I wonder what F. was trying to do this time. And how did M. spot it? Was it F.'s body language and hand moving forward ever so slightly, as if testing the water, that got M.'s attention? How does stay so constantly aware of every little motion of F.'s all day long? That must be exhausting... Is it rewarding to him? How does he know what to do?

Those thoughts are ones I wonder every day as I hear the well known phrase of, "no hitting, no kicking". I am used to this phrase, though it does not cease to set me wondering.
What is F. thinking when he tries to assualt someone? [note- by "assualt", I mean behave in a way that could cause himself or someone else physical harm.] Is he aware that his behavior will cause another person (or himself) pain? What is he thinking? F.'s behavior is so different from behaviors that I normally exhibit or see exhibited in my family and friends- so much so that I can barely even fathom what his thought processes are. The one thing I am reasonably sure of is that when F. behaves in whatever manner he behaves in, it makes sense to him. It may not make any sense to me or M. why F. is more prone to assualting when M. drinks something in front of him, but I am quite positive that hitting and kicking are perfectly reasonable reactions to whatever stimuli it is that F. is reacting to- at least, they are perfectly reasonable to F. To M. however, F.'s behavioral specialist, and to every other employee in the special education department, it just doesn't make sense.

burp!
"T.! Did you just burp?" I ask, my eyebrows raised in suprise, chin tucked in, and lips pursed in a playful but persistant smile.
"I-oh-oh," T. slurs, his voice dipping and rising as most peoples' do as he lifts his shoulders with his palms raised up.
"You do too know, T." I give my best imitation of my mother's reproving look.
"Oh-oooooooo!!" T. swings his arm in a disappointed surrender, as if saying "dang it! you caught me!".
"what do you do when you burp, T.?" I suppress a smile, trying to be serious and also patient as T. processes.
"I-oh-oh." T. smiles. I love his smile. It's one of those smiles that I'm sure at first sight makes mothers light up with joy and pride for their child.
"You do too know." Pause. T. looks at me. Nothing. "Excuse me," I say and model the sign with my hands. "Say it or sign it, please."
"Oh-oooooo!" Just as I expected- the one word he should use the most, he usually refuses to use.
"Oh-oooooo!" I mimic, eyes and mouth wide open as I play along. I then sign EXCUSE-ME very clearly for T. "Do that, please, and then I'll stop bugging you about it."
T. stays in his seat, hands folded on his lap. He shakes his head briefly.
I sigh. "You know I'm not gonna leave you alone about it until you say 'Excuse me', so you should just say it now and you can go back to your snack."
A blank stare. Then, a few minutes later, after some coaxing, I see some movement. I almost missed it, but there it is, half-hidden beneath his desk, T. is signing EXUSE-ME.
"Is that 'excuse me', T.?" I ask in surprise and extreme interest, leaning forward in my seat.
T. shrugs, and smiles.
"That was, wasn't it?" I nod my head in approval.
T. hesitates, and then nods briefly.
"Yay!! Thank you, T. for saying EXCUSE-ME!! Good job! Hi-five!" T. sticks his hand up like a tree, and I reach forward and give him a hi-five.

16 November 2006

Today I worked with D. on the concepts of empty and not-empty. I know that he understands the concepts, because when he walks up to a bin to recycle that turns out being empty, he turns around and walks away. However, the fact that many thoughts, or concepts, like that can be expressed with things called words, I don't think he realizes. Oh, he knows that if I point to me he says "Cassy" and point to him is "D." and point to the teacher is "R." and to that one student, "I." "T." "S." etc. Although he usually needs some prodding along with that, as well.
I point to the recycling bin full with papers before D. picks it up.
"What's in there?"
D. looks up at me. "Doo-ga-doo-ga-doo-ga!" He mumbles; his pitch wavering like a broken stereo. I remember what Mrs. B. told me- that reaction can mean that he is confused and doesn't know what to do.
"You know this. Look in. What's in there?" D. looks in. "Something, right?" I show him the sign.
"suh-ding" D. repeats.
"Something, good! Show me with your hands; say it with your hands." I repeat the sign. D. repeats me.
GOOD-JOB I sign. "goo jah" D. says in response.
"Yes, good job!" We repeat the exercize. "Go ahead and empty it now." D. grabs the bin and empties it into the four foot high, round recycling receptacle. He then sets the bin down.
"What's in there, D.?"
He looks at me. "suh-ding." He's repeating what I told him before, exhibiting that he doesn't understand the meaning of the word.
Patiently I explain. "No, nothing. Nothing." And I show him the sign. "What's in there? D., look. What's in there? Nothing."
"nuh-ting"
"Good! Sign it with me, please." I show him the sign. "What's in there, D.?"
"nuh-ting!"
"Good job. Sign it please." He signs NOTHING.
"Good job! Hi-five!" D. smiles faintly and gives me a high-five.
I look around and spot a piece of paper. I grab it and stick it in the bin. D. makes a move to remove it to his receptacle. I sign, NO. STOP. WAIT. He stops and stands in front of me, looking at me, then the bin, then back at me. I point to the bin. "Look at it. What's in there?"
"nuh-ting" He's repeating what I said before again.
"No." I grab the piece of paper, show him, shake it around and drop it back in. "Something" I stress as I show him the sign.
"suh-ting" he says, and SOMETHING, he signs.
"Good! Good Job!" The inside part of my fingertips of my right hand touch my mouth and then my hand moves down until the back side lands flat in my left hand. GOOD JOB.
I take the paper out. "What's in there, D.?"
"suh-ting" He's still repeating.
"No, nothing." He says it. I sign it. D. signs it. I put the paper back in. "What's in there, now?"
"nuh-ting"
We work on this for a few minutes, until a magical moment. The paper is in the bin. "What's in there, D.?"
"suh-ting" he says. I take the paper out quickly.
"What's in there now?"
"nuh-ting!" D. says.
"Yes!!!!! Good job! Nothing's in there! Good!" And I give him a double high five. Progress.
However, I find ten minutes later when we work on the concept again, I have to repeat teaching it to him just as before. Except for one small detail. He gets it more quickly this time.

freewrite #11- started to fall asleep a couple times during this one...

Freewrite #11

Chalise sat down to her new book, treasuring the site of it. She always loved reading. It transported her to a world which was completely separate from her own. Oh the joy of reading! She thought. As she began to immerse herself into the book, she fell in love with the romantic interest. Who couldn’t fallin love with him? He was soo very attractive. Not too tall so as to tower unreachable over her, but not too short so that he was eye level with her. She had to look up just a little for he was only a couple of inches above her. He had light He had dark hair and light blue eyes. The most gorgeous eyes ever, she thought. She imagined him walking towards her. Had someone been watching her as she daydreamed, that someone would have noticed that Chalise was sitting with her head up, moth half open, eyes closed, and a silly, giddy, smile on her face. The attractive man walked towards her still… her heart began to beat more quickly- oh, how lovely his eyes are! She thought. He was only a few inches away and she could smell his cologne- how lovely is that smell? I once smelled that smell before, and upon smelling it I told myself, “If if a guy ever smelled like that and wasn’t creepy, I’d fall in love with him” wlel, this guy isn’t creepy, and he smells like that. I am falling in love. He gives me his hand, askes me to dance- finall someone at the stake dances that actually asks girls to dance! He has a nice firm hand, holding tightly onto mine, like he never wants to let go. Oh, I am in love! Or so Chalise thinks.

Or so Chalise thinks. He looks at her, gazing deeply into her eyes. Of coruse she is gazing back, ferfe fervently awaiting whatever it is that he has to say. “you have mustard on your nose!!”

What?! Mustard!!!! Oh, it’s only Billy. Stupid little brother, disrupting Chalise’s dadream- again. Why is it that everytime my one true love is aobut to say something reall really special and romantic, Billy interrupts? Welll, Chalise, such is the life of having younger siblings, or r rather, the fate of of those with siblings, whether they be younger older or the same age.

Back to her daydream… no, it’s not happening. Chalise can no longer go back to that one, Billy ruined it. She tried and tried, but she could never recapture the moment as it played out in her head. She blamed this on Billy. Everytime the main character love interest was about to saying something to her that was amazingly romantic, she heard Billy’s voice excape his throat, saying “you’ve got mustard on you no your nose!!” and there was nothing she could do to erase him. S tuck there forever.

Chalise sighs, upset that this is haer fate. It’s unfortunate, but true. So much for kissing- I can’t e eeven kiss some made up guy in my daydreams because he’s not realy and I’ve never met him. I haven’t been up to much lately- just homework and such. Lots of homework, and of coruse I’ve been turning morst of it in ontime now ( rob doesn’t have an appt till Wednesday, which is what I thought you were calling about really.

Next year, Mary is thinking about not doing footall, but doing track. I think it’d be pretty cool to have a diver do sdim, and he in several things tend to by more psyach. Some classes seem really interesting to me, but I know, for example, that I couldn’ tget pie plates medez. Isn’t that interesting? I thought so, esp. since last noped as long and stinno tassic with floow!! See you now! Love ya!

Cassn

SD. Okay,

Well, I happen to be getting very quiet. I wonder if I’ve been taying anything youldn’t that be funny if I were… In fact, I really wouldn’t surprised. Oh, how about, I’m awake again, looking at what I’ve written, and I think I started to fall asleep after “I think it’d be pretty cool to have ….” A diver do swim? Mary’s not a diver- I am. And he in several things tend to be more psyach- in several ways mary tends to be more physical than me? I remember thinking of gymnastics just a few moments ago… I wonder what that was all about… Funny funny. I think my next freewrite I’ll let myself start to fall asleep, and then see what I write. Okay, well, off to that, now, since this here is about a page!

freewrite #12- the funniest of all

Freewrite #12

Okay, here is the last one. I will type it quick. I am tired, so I decided that I will type and let myself fall asleep, just with the idea of don’t stop typing going through my head. We will see what I write, because that will be really really interesting to find out.

Okay, closing my eyes. Listening to music. It’s Les Miserables. Still not sasleep. How about now? Y’know typing really isn’t that difficult for me since I’ve been typing forever. I wonder where tugger went- he’s somewhere around here isn’t he? He must be.

It’s difficult to get his attention since he’s deaf. Oh, here we go, having my eyes closed, the lids are starting to get heavy and it almost feels like I have a load already to go and ater we puick up. Sister Lofgran, I aam so grateful for everything oh look, I’m a wake again- I started to wake up right after or during while I was typing Sister Lofgran. I don’t remember what I said before that… Well, continuing with my rt typing (I never took a break, btw, I realized realied mostly on the other for help, because I was blind and confined to a weelbchair. It is all very confusing. Tomas it pretty cool. I’m sort of awake again. I wonder if I am in Zimbabwe…. See I’m started to wake up again, because when I start to wake up a g ain, I notice that last couple words that I typing, and then I realize that what I’m trying to sayn’t by feature working. Oh look.

I stopped typing. Whoops. Shame on me. Anyhow, I wanted to forward forward this because it’s silly. I wasnna drive it first. Why? I’m not so sure… funny stuff. Perhaps if we llived so much closer to the music stand, there would be cassy only 2- minutes from this classes. Pint taken. This class seems like good communication skills, and other lactic. Righnow now I should take a few mminutes and leaving heand foryou my information. Like I said , emailing is bes, when you ‘ve va e.f Se Seen me some paikces cv ckup? That’s sooo bI need to find my boosline . You’re fav rooon please help me to gkeep writing.

I keep on storeopping, and then I realized I’ve started. What does a printer dood er reou you dno’t doo and of the doodwaeelish, fra (how do the quarts stillhave ear), you an har please help mom to find a jobn. I mean, she already has a jobn. Please helpe

I am wondering where the turn signal on this car is. Oh, I found it! I could payed sixty, though that a pretty nokay, I wonder if I am down, not that I am abnout halfway here. Let’s check and seefar where just started primary.

Wow, my eyes are open, and I’m awake again. I think that Ireally did fall asleep there while I was writing. After I submit it (my work is already late because it past midnight, but I’m hoping it’ll be okay- my stomach was being silly and I couldn’t “hold it” any longer and had to use the restroom, and mary took forever to let me on the computer). Perhaps other people have typed while they were falling asleep. It looks like I had a lot of typos…. Is this a page yet? How about now? Not quite… unfortunate. I think that this should count as a full page, because it basically is one.

But not quite, so I still have more to say. Well, poor Tugger got scared. He was continually looking under my bed for libby, trying to get to her, but she didn’t like that, so she growled at him, not that he noticed ‘cuz he’s deaf…. Well, anyhow, the boxes we had ou are here for the other animals finally what do you think we’re gonna move the washer for… wowm that’s someinteresting looking s tuff. So, amber, how do you like your communication class? Like, I said, it sounds really interesting class, I wanna take it… haha. Okay, well havefun in there. Don’t fall out. It was it Katie that you guys were telling not to fall over? It was friends please help me father, am I done yet? I should probably reponen my family and responsiblility for my actions. HowBRAKE, HOW LONG ARE THESE GONNA BE ON YOU!! LET’S SEE HOW CLOSE TO THE IMAGINARY LINE I SEE. Time to get out and check. What does mom said, “yeah”- she sounds tired! And Brynn- how was it Brynn? Well, I’m falling asleep, and this must be a ge, so good night. I love and appreciate you al, even though it sometimes steems are tjat resnet more or jhusrsh/pressure/drugs etc. can affect a fetus severely. That’s unfortunate. I am blad enough to get me to do this. What am I doing? Am I done ytet? Yes, I hithink I will better brepared for blah blahj blah blah… pb%J. Okay, wall acreasing nexte from maybe grandpa will elst us drive to where go tget condolice. I’ve criver’s aed, and that ekarand now I’d like to end. The end. Now long is it? Long ehough? Let’s hope so- knowck on lib (unless you don’ot have anyhow, in the which was………………………make as much funtist cucssle Jomes. James. Is that better. Pirni[ellp, we’ll help yta out.

Oh well. ttyl love ya!!

HOMECOMING- Part I

HOMECOMING- PART I
setting- at home

So, the rest of my entries have been a bit more constructive, essay-formatted. This one is a synapsis of Homecoming. I think I'll tell it in narrative form (plus, if I make it long enough it can count as a freewrite for my Engl 110 class!). But I might switch. We'll just have to wait and see.

Well, I have a gorgeous dress. I really do. It's dark blue at the top and bottom, but then has a gradiant to the middle where it is this lighter blue. Last Saturday morning my mom got out the sewing machine- this black thing that was given her from my grandma (and will be passed down to me), and was made probably around 1950. This sewing machine, like so many elderly people, is finicky. Some days (this is what my mother tells me, by the way. I wouldn't know any of this without the information from her, considering I'm not the one that sews) it decides to be a kind, lovely sewing machine, while others it decides to be the most stubborn piece of antique junk. Yesterday it was junk. So what did my mom do? She hand-sewed sleeves onto my dress. You see, my dress had no sleeves, which isn't such a good thing because it's not entirely modest, and I prefer by a far stretch modest dresses.

Getting ready, I was going back and forth between actually getting ready and studying for my psychology class.

So finally J_____ and K____ (names have been erased to protect the innocent) show up. K____ and my mom are best friends, so it's been funny getting ready for homecoming because some of it has been K____ asking me, "so, what color do you want your corsage to be?" and "oh! Your dress looks so pretty!" (this is when she saw it) "J____________ has a tie that is that'll match it perfectly!"

Oh, by the way, there is a history here, between J____ and myself. Would you like to hear it?

The Creepy Shrek Moment

I've known J____ for a very long time- since he was that kid sitting in the back of the primary room, tilting his chair back on two legs and ending the "Hello, hello we welcome you today" song with "good-bye". Our mothers (when they were both single) would attend the singles' dances togethor, so I would usually go over to K____'s house where C____ (her second to youngest child) would babysit J____ and me.

I had a crush on him. I was about 11 or 12 years old at the time, putting him at the age of 12 or 13. We were sitting on the couch, he on one side and myself comfortably seated on the other. We happened to be watching Shrek at the time. He started to move over. Just gradually, mind you, but he still started to move, about an inch at a time, every time bringing him closer towards me. Considering my age and naivete, I had no idea what to do. So I sat there and felt uncomfortable. He continued to close in. I felt like a deer being hunted, and moved an inch closer to the other side of the couch- away from him. This repeated. A few times. Until I was against the arm of the couch, and J____ was right by my side. He yawns. Stretches. And his left arm finds its way to the back of the couch. Behind my head. I tense. And I am scared.

Concerning what comes next in the story, I always have to ask myself- Did this happen? Did it really happen? The image is so blurry, I can barely tell. Why is this sole part of the video in my mind so blurry? This section is blurry because after that night I decided I didn't want to remember. Maybe it didn't even happen... I told myself. It couldn't have... I must have imagined it. Well, here's what couldn't have happened. Here's what I can't remember. Here's what I imagined happening:

My body stiff and straight like a pole, my heart is skipping madly. He leans towards my ear. And then everything gets fuzzy, like the whole picture in my head has been covered by gray clouds- distorting the image; and a windstorm is raging in the background- a deafening sound which dwarfs all other sounds. J____ whispers loudly- I love you. I am stunned. I sit in shock. And then-

Off the couch, I leap!! I dart across the room, arriving at my bag. Into the bag I dive, searching frantically for my book to read. To distract. I think, oh no, he's going to like me more because I'm reading and he'll think it's soo hot! I find my book and am immediately buried in it.

The rest of that evening was spent in discomfort. After the event, I avoided J____. He also became labeled as "Creepy-Shrek Dude". What a horrible reputation that would be to have.

Sweatpants

Is it promising when your date and his mother show up, and he is wearing sweatpants? Sweatpants which are baggy at the hip area (emphasizing his wonderfully curvy shape... oh, just kidding- he's not curvy) and have the bottoms scrunched up so the pants actually end a few inches about his ankles? And then there's the gym socks. With well-worn tennis shoes to top off the ensemble. At least his casual shirt is nice, I thought to myself.

Mom and I are standing on the doorstep, greeting K____ and J____ as they step out of the car, grab their things, and head up to the entrance. J____ gets there first. "Hi, J____! Long time no see!"

"Hey, Cassanndre! How are you?" And a nice, big hug. I hadn't been sure of what to expect- hug? handshake? I would have been more comfortable with a handshake. But it was a friendly hug from the side, and it reminded me of the hugs counselors gave at EFY. He stood there for a quick moment, his arm around me (and me feeling a little bit awkward), catching up.

Curling Iron, Mascara, and Time

At this moment, I am wearing jeans and a shirt, with my hair straight down. My bangs have just been trimmed by my mom, my make-up begun (but not finished). Still a lot left to do. In a very little time. J____ heads to the bathroom with his hair gel, shoes, comb, and older brother's suit in hand. I head to my bedroom. Mom is right behind me.

Then the curling fest is initiated. Top layer of hair is pinned up. Bottom layer combed and sprayed and curled; and curled and sprayed. Ten minutes later, second layer combed, curled, and sprayed.

Then an unexpected call is heralded from my littlest sister. "Cassanndre!! A bunch of people are here and they're all dressed up fancy!!"
"What?!!" What could she be talking about? Did Trevor and Coral, Christine and Tyler come for J____ and me? We hadn't planned that! Well, we actually hadn't planned anything having to do with transportation, but that was beside the point. Are they late for their pictures? "Mom...? What do we do?"

So Mom heads out to greet them, and introduce. From my bedroom I can hear, "Hi everyone! Oh, wow! You all look so nice! This is J____ and K____. Come on in, Cassanndre's just finishing up. J____, this is Trevor (not Stefan, right?), Coral, Tyler, and Christine." And they all start socializing. I make use of this time. Make-up: eyeshadow is finished. Chapstick is found. Mom comes back.

Ten more minutes, and the hair is all done. Bangs straightened with a slight curl. Hair at the sides pinned up. Hair in the back teased just a bit. Final touches. More hair spray. Perfume. Then the dress. Over my head. Mom zips it up and fastens the fastener. Put on shoes. So much for nail polish. Necklace and earrings. Mirror check. Tickets? There they are. ASB card? Where is it?! I check my wallet. Not there. Search around my room frantically. No, Mom, please stay with me, I don't want to come out by myself. No, Mom, I already looked there. What? It's in my wallet? I already looked there... Thank you. Am I ready? Mental Checklist: Hair, good. Make-up, yes, nice. Shoes? yes. Dress, yes. Tickets and ASB? Yes. Cell-phone? J____ has one. Anything else, Mom? Okay. No, you go out first.

The corsage, the bootineer (how do you spell that word?!), and we all line up for some pictures. Mom accidentally got a couple where I made a funny face, but those were deleted. Maybe I'll upload 'em with this story. Or maybe not.

Coming up next- pictures, dinner, homecoming, stake dance, and denny's.

language

"If no language is learned by adulthood, one will never be learned"

That is included in the study guide for chapter 3 of my psych 100 class. I disagree. Wholeheartedly. I don't care what the research says- it's not impossible. It may be statistically unlikely, nearly impossible, or an unbelievable challenge for both the language-less adult and the educator. I read a book about a man who was born deaf and raised in Mexico. He never learned a language, and at about age 30, he finally began to learn one. It was an extremely difficult journey for him, but he did, however, eventually learn american sign language. The difficult connection for him at first was just understanding that there are words for certain ideas. That that thing right in front of him has a name. What's a name? That's what he had to learn first. And once he learned what a name was, his whole world began to open, and he began to learn language. What a wonderful story. Don't you think? I think so.

I disagree with that statement because it is contrary to what I believe. I believe in miracles, and I believe that if it is God's will, then an adult of any age can learn language- a first language. It may be difficult, but it is possible.

Language is an amazing thing, don't you think? I've always been fascinated by it. You see, communication is at the core of everything in this world. Take, for example, your neurons. A message recieved by the dendrites, processed by the cell body, and then sent along the axons and finally delivered at the terminal branches of the axons. This whole process is merely communication. Sure, it's not the same type of communication that we humans employ between one another, it's an electrochemical communication, but it is communication nonetheless. Our whole body operates on conversations similar to this one.

In fact, the whole world is just one big conversation. Really, it's true. Chlorophyll, for example, and the sun (am I getting my facts straight or am I confusing my biology just a bit?)- I mean, the sun's rays are communicated to the plant, which (by its chlorophyll) "hears" the sun and accepts the message, internalizing this message for its benefit.

That is how life is. Every aspect of life is a conversation, a dialogue. Genes, for example. We just have to figure out the genetic language in order to have a fluent conversation with our genes and thereby understand them better. I am currently communicating with my computer- by giving it input through the keyboard. Though, the keyboard isn't a very good conversationalist- he just digests what I have to say and then spits it out- giving me the same thing I put in, but in a different form.

I think it would be fun to help bring language to a language-less person. Can you imagine life without language? Life without having a name for everything? Walking at school and not thinking, "locker... hallway... boy... book... girl... classroom... chair... water... teacher..."? What a life!! To recognize and yet not have a name, I most certainly cannot imagine living like that. It would be awful. It really would.

I really think sign languages are a blessing from God for some of his language-less children. I wonder about kids like F____, T____, and D_____. Will they ever learn language? Will D____'s sentence mostly comprise of "yes, no, maybe" and other little grunts? Will F____ ever use a realy word? Will Jake ever learn to speak? Or at least read. how lovely would that be, to be able to open and rad a book after years of really really wanting to.

Well, that's one page. Good night- it's 11:28 and I'm tired. Tomorrow I get to listen to people from the UW. That should be interesting. It just means that I have to skip going to Russell Ridge. I should work on my rough draft tomorrow; and read some history, considering unit two is due on friday and i haven't done anything at all about it... grr... History. I don't like that stuff. And Psychology, well, I should just study, so I get better than a 78.181818....% next time. Blech. Okay, well, good night now!

Oh, PS- Jon F called me right in the middle of driver's ed! And of course I forgot to turn the phone off, so here comes the hokey pokey... "whoops... I say quietly, hoping no one notices. Well now, good night.

freewrite 10.9.06

Cassànndrè Sager
9 October 2006 ~ Engl 110
freewrite #?

Well, M____ has decided to do her freewrite, so I guess I’ll do mine, too. Let me go grab my USB so I can listen to some music. Okay. It’s all good now. So… here I am. At the RRC. I mean, at Russell Ridge. I think I like it here. Although the computer is driving me nuts right now because it’s being really difficult. I’m think I’m just grumpy. I didn’t take me Sertraline (Zoloft ®) last night because I’m all out and when I thought of it I couldn’t go get any from Mom ‘cuz she was already in bed. And I haven’t had my singulair for the same reasons. Maybe those things having something to do w/ it. And this keyboard is really really lame because the backspace is just a little arrow and the key is really small and it’s pretty much gonna drive me crazy having to be so precise with my pinky in order to hit that backspace just right every time.

Ugh…. I hate it!!!

I think I’m thirsty. I’ll grab some water and then come back.

Okay, I’m hydrated. N____ was playing with some toy and I said, “that doesn’t look like homework!”
He throws the toy down and says, “so?!” I took a drink of water and looked at him. “nice come-back.” N____ just kinda smiles and looks at his homework. Funny boy.

I found out more of what M____ actually does. He’s a behavioral specialist (a BS- a bologna sandwhich… haha…). The reason the school district hired him is because F____ hit R____. I guess F____ is having a hard time adjusting to the new school district. M____’s job is to figure out what F____ knows, and to help F____ be calm and not violent. When F____ acts up he uses what’s termed as “verbal de-escalation”. Interesting. He was very nice when I asked him what it is that he actually does- what did the school district hire you for? He started telling me about what he does, and why the school hired him for F____. I thought that it was very interesting. I’m listening to him talk and enjoying it because I’ve been very curious, and it wasn’t difficult to satisfy my curiosity. He says that he is CPI certified.
“CPI? What is that?”
“Oh, you’d ask that.”
“Yes, I would… and I did.” (How lame does that sound? Well?)

CPI certified means that if verbal de-escalation doesn’t work to calm F____ down, M____ can restrain him and no one can tell him that what he did was wrong. He said that he’s a punching bag (though that was earlier in the conversation). What exactly did he mean by that? I guess I’ll have to ask him about that sometime. That’ll have to wait, though, because tomorrow I plan on asking about what schooling he went through, and what? So, you have a bachelor’s degree in behavioral science or specialty or something? Or a master’s? Or what? How old is he, anyhow? He’s not much taller than me, and he’s kinda cute… but that’s beside the point. Or is it? I think it is. I think that if he didn’t have that little goatee thing going on he’d probably look much younger. When I first met him I thought that he was my age, maybe a year older. But I see now that he is in all likelihood in his mid twenties. Peculiar. At least to me.

S____ was difficult again today. Ugh! I’m getting tired of it! Maybe I’ll read up on stuff and see if I find anything useful to help me deal with him. Behavioral science? Or just flip through my psychology book? I’ll probably start w/ the psych book because it’s very readily accessible. And I don’t want to try and find out if the computer is cooperating again or not. I mean, the internet. ‘Cuz the internet wasn’t working for me. It was really stupid and rather annoying, actually.
So, I’m going to cooking today. I hope that it proves worth my time. I think it will, but I’m not sure what to expect. Well, I’ve hit my one-page mark. I guess I’ll move the margins a bit larger so it’s all on one page. I’ll come back later to do another freewrite. I happen to be rather behind here. Maybe I’ll try and imitate Jane Austen. Indeed, I think I shall. That sounds like fun to me.

Well, till later, then.

freewrite #?

Hmm... Thinking thinking thinking. It's another freewrite (yippee!). What is going on with me today? Well, I'm not quite sure. Oh, well I went in the special ed room and it was kinda funny... I went up and said hi to people (like normal) and when I went up and said hi to t____ he leaned his head against me! I thought, whoa... weird... I guess he likes me! While out doing the recycling T____ found this large rolled up piece of cardstock paper with a bunch of writing on it. He decided he liked it and kept it. I asked him if I could see it (he wouldn't let me at first) and then put it up to his ear and said "Helloooo, T____!!" Later on asked him if I could see it (he hid it under the desk for a moment) and placed to my ear and told him to say something. He burps. Just a little one. I laughed and told him that burping is bad manners.

I really like playing in the orchestra. Today I guess I was a bit closer to getting my timing right in some of the more difficult places. When we stopped playing, Mr. Harrison talked to me about those spots just a little bit, and then he told me "good playing". That made me happy because I have been concerned w/ this piece... It's a very difficult piece. The eighth notes are trick because we're playing so fast and I just can't tongue that fast on many of them, so I tend to slur two tongue two. But the more difficult thing about this piece is the timing. It's not like I can't play the notes or the rythms, those aren't difficult. It's just the actual coming in on time and knowing how I fit into the whole orchestra.

I think that life is a lot like that. We all feel we're our own instrument and trying to figure out how our part fits into what the rest of the orchestra is playing- what is the significance of our individual parts? It's hard to tell sometimes, and we feel like we're doing more harm than good othertimes because we are trying our best and still messing up at parts. But that's okay, because eventually we'll be able to play those parts, and everything will be fine. We will eventually be able to see how we fit in and what we bring as individual musicians to the orchestra.

"Good playing" makes me think of M____ and F____. When M____ tells F____ "wait please!", and F____ waits well, M___ says "good waiting!". He does this with other things, too... I just can't think of them at the moment. I really like the people in special ed- the teachers, students, and other peer tutors. I feel wary around I___, just because he's a bit less predictable I suppose- the teachers tell me to watch out for him because he likes to grab. And F____- today I felt wary around him, but that was just because the teachers told me, "he's having a bad day today."
"worse than yesterday?" I ask, curious.
"yes"
"oh... wow"
"so, if we say 'clear the room' we need to get all of the students out as quickly as possible, okay?"
"... okay..."
Strange, isn't it? F____ to me usually seems harmless. I guess I forget that he hit R____ because I didn't see it. In fact, I haven't been around when he gets aggressive... I've been around when the teachers were worried about him getting aggressive. Like yesterday, when M____ was telling me to watch out during lunch because he's waiting for F____ to lunge at him.
"why... do you think that'll happen?" I ask, phrasing my words carefully so he understands me.
"because I'm eating"
"what does that have to do with....? I mean, why would he lunge at you because you're eating?"
"I don't know. If we knew then we could fix it."
I accepted that. It's interesting that there are things like that with developmentally disabled students. So much we don't understand about what life is like for them, and what they see and understand of the world around them. I'm sure that to F____ it makes perfect sense to lunge at M____ when M____'s eating. At least when he does it. Other times when he doesn't, I'm sure it doesn't make sense.

I'd like to know more about CPI. It's interesting to me. M____ once described himself as a punching bag. That confused me, but I didn't ask more about it because I was questioning him on a different line. Does he mean that when F____ gets violent, M____ is the one that is around to calm him down? Whether it be (preferably) verbal de-escalation, or physical restraint (hopefully unnecessary)? Or that working with F____ is bound to bring some cuts and scratches? Perhaps someday when F____ isn't having a difficult day I'll ask M____ about why he works as a behavioral specialist. I mean, it's different to focus on one particular student from 7:00 to 2:00 or whatever his hours are every day than to work with multiple students. I'm also interested in Community Cares. If I go to the UW, perhaps I'll see if I can get a job there. Or maybe I'll be able to find a place like that near BYU or MAC. I guess we'll just see how things play out.

freewrite #2

So, apparently fixing bugs in programs is a lot like being a detective. Or an FBI agent. Funny conversation. Funny funny funny…..

Not that you care. Unless you like programming.

Maybe I should write a story. I think I might just do that. What should it be about?

I’m not so sure. It should be interesting. I have a lot of thoughts in my head. But they’re kind of lame… I mean, they’re not. By they are. Oh, I know!! How about an interpreter that through her interpreting discovers some sort of murder or something?!! Oh wait… that’s already happened in The Interpreter. Gosh! But I could take a twist on that… And a nurse. There should be a nurse. Or an accountant. You see, I would like to be a nurse. Or an interpreter for the deaf/deaf-blind. And Marianne might grow up to be an accountant. And John a software person. My mom is a paralegal. Kaitlyn will be a teacher. Blake, a doctor, I think? Of course, journalism seems kind of like a cool career… Or a detective. Who should the main character be? Or should I have more than one main character? I should have one main character is almost like a second-person. But not. She will be the connection between all of the other characters. There should be a mafia! Or not… that’s kind of over used.

What are some issues that affect me? Well, pre-marital sex. People who do that are really stupid. And they annoy me. Modesty. Education. I like judo. And music. And languages.

I want it to be a mystery. I want a Nancy Drew. But not quite a Nancy Drew. And of course there has to be a hunk of savage manliness. There always must be. A kid get kidnapped. One character knows the single mother of 4 from whom he was kidnapped. One character knows the people that kidnapped the poor kid. Another character teaches the kid? One character’s children play with the kidnapped child. He is deaf, and so can’t communicate well. Not many people in this part of the country know ASL. He learned some before he was kidnapped… but now, where he is, no one knows it. And they’re all kind of ignorant people, so they don’t realize that this kid is a genius, they just think that he’s slow. Or maybe he should be a she. I’m not so sure.

Anyhow, why did these people kidnap the kid? I’m thinking this kid is actually a teenager, now. Or an adult. Yes, an adult that is being held captive? Making that mother of 4 single. So that makes the person a man? I guess so… unless it’s a now-single father of 4…. And the mom is the one being held captive. I think the father will be the one held captive. Yes, the father. And he’s deaf. And really smart.

But why was he kidnapped? (Adultnapped?) Does he know something he shouldn’t? Or is it his genes? When he was little, was he injected with experimental stem cells that caused his deafness? No, no, no… that would put a negative light on the stem cells. Unless that stem cell thing was just a theory. And what actually happened was that the stem cells saved his life, leaving him with just a hearing problem. Yes, indeed. I like that. You see, he’s an orphan. And the stem cells that were used leave a trace behind themselves in someone’s genes. Or something like that. Or maybe he isn’t an orphan. No, jk, he is an orphan. But the people that gave him the stem cells know who he is. And they have kept an eye on him his whole life to see how their experiment turned out. They are like his guardian angels. They are not just concerned about this specimen. They have grown to love him over time. Stem Cell Angels. Just as the people who gave the deaf man his stem cells are about to reveal their work, another company steals their work. And they need to contact the deaf man so they can show him as proof of successful work. The only problem is that he’s been napped and can’t be found anywhere. The other company wants all of the credit. Why? For riches? I suppose so… The head of the company… well, his name could be Laban…. Well, that’ll be it for now.