I feel guilty. I feel very guilty. I keep telling myself 'I'll do it today' and 'I'll write in my blog today' but I never actually do. I sincerely apologize to anybody who faithfully reads this, which is optimistically 10. IB is friggin' scary, and I have so many things to do. Like avoid doing my work and procrastinate, which is a token of the true IB kid. But seriously, with an AP class freshman year, two Pre-IB classes, and more than my fair share of insane teachers an principles, and also new and old friends to keep up with, I have like, zero free time on my hands. And also, to quote my dad, I read more than I breathe, so I need to find time for that too. Along with breathing. And other life essentials.
I left home early with a migraine today. I can count on one hand the number of times I've had migraines that bad. It always starts the same, since that very first time on my eleventh birthday. Which was, as you can guess, an AWESOME birthday present. I lose my peripheral vision in my left eye. It's horrible and annoying. Shortly following, I regain my vision and recieve a mind-wrenching migraine in it's stead. Let me put it in a way you understand. You know how sculptors use the little hammer and spike thingies to make their statues? Multiply the hammer by 5. And the spike by 20. Then drive it in to your brain. That's how I felt. I called my mom before the migraine hit abot my partial blindness. She knew the sitch. She took me to get an MRI for the strange vision loss in 6th grade. She told me to call my dad who stayed home from work today, due to a doctors appointment, and tell him to puck me up. My dad gets migraines too. A lot more frequently. I've gotten, like, 3 or 4 in the past four years, and he's had 3 or 4 in the past two months. He could empathize.
So he picked me up during lunch. It had started to hurt by the time he got there, one agonizing hammer hit at a time. The only wY I could cope was by goi g kind of Zen. I distanced myself from the pain. I still felt it. Hell yeah I still felt it. But I was more like I was an outsider. Like those creepy twins who can tell when the other one is hurt because they felt it too. After a quick stop at Burger King (I refused to eat, because I also felt an overwhelming desire to hurl) I went home, took about ten advils (that's an exaggeration, straight-edgers. I took three in the course of six hours) slept for four hours, and woke up feeling a he'll of a lot better. Thank God I slept through it. That's probably what labor feels like. Times ten. In my head.
I'm fine now. My head only hurts when I turn really fast or bend over or laugh really hard or burp or hiccup or accidentally hit it. Although now, come to think of it, that probably hurts anybody anyways. It just hurts a lot more. It's almost 2 in the morning now, which you won't be able to tell from your messed up blogspot clocks. After sleeping for four hours in The middle of the day, I'm not all that tired.
I HEREBY MAKE A RESOLUTION: I will try, though probably not succeed, to write I. This blog once a week. But I promise to write at least once a month. If I don't hold up to it, those of you that know me may through one partially soggy piece of food at me. And one last note: if you read me, and you like me, tell your friends. Please. I realize that I am sorely lacking in consistency, but I'm trying to fix that. I don't want to become worly reknown or anything (although that would be awesome). I just want to get a wider reading sphere. And comments. I like comments. In fact, I love 'em. Say what you think, even if what you think sucks, or has absolutely nothing to so with my post. I like hearing what people think. I like hearing what you think.
A penny saved is a penny earned, but a penny found in a parking lot is a free penny.
Spend it wisely.
Christy
