I kissed a girl and I liked it, apparently.

So this past month I went to my doctor because I haven't been sleeping. At the beginning of the appointment, I could tell he thought I was being a hypochondriac, but after talking about my life stressors, he thought I was severely depressed. Let me just tell you, that if you ever want to get depressed, think critically about your life stressors and discuss them with someone who doesn't know you well (The big life stressors include: school, finances, careers, and relationships). When he started asking me questions like "Have you ever thought about hurting yourself, or wanted to end it all", I knew what he was getting at. I started laughing, and I tried to persuade him that I wasn't depressed, because I'M NOT! I was able to get it through to him, that I have severe anxiety not depression. So, he tried me on Trazidone, an anti-depressant that when used in small dosages only has the effect of drowsiness. It did not work. He also tested my blood for everything that could possibly make me tired. Including HIV, thyroid problems, and mononucleosis (and because BYU doesn't bill private insurance, it cost me $300). He told me to check back in with him in a few weeks.

So this past week, I had an appointment. I brought along Katie Cullen for the adventure. When they were weighing me, I asked to see how tall I was. The nurse/CNA told me that I was 5'7". I said "WHAT?!" and she acted like nothing had happened. She then saw that on the computer it was written that I was 5'10", so she wanted to check me again. This time I was 5'9". Now this might not seem like news to you, but when you've been told your whole life you're 5'10" and then one day someone tells you you're an inch shorter (on the same day you had been studying self-esteem in your adolescent development class, and realized your self-image isn't fully developed until you're an adult), you will be mortified. It was like someone had told me that I was adopted. Katie acted as if nothing was wrong. She didn't understand the severe trauma this had caused me.

Then the doctor came in and told me that I was not HIV positive (hallelujah). He told me I was positive for mono (I could have told you that without the $40 test). He then told me I shouldn't play basketball anymore. This was another crushing moment for me, because I am on an intramural team that is basically my life. He told me that if I continued to play, I had a high risk of rupturing my spleen and also relapsing into a worse sickness that would take longer for me to recover. I then told him the medication he had me on didn't work and he stated "Have you ever heard of Ambien?" and I said "Yes that's for crazy people". And he said "Well, we're going to put you on that, and see how that works". Basically, for those of you who don't know about Ambien, if you aren't crazy to begin with, you'll become crazy. People who take it do not remember anything that happens after a half-an-hour after taking it. People can hallucinate with it, sleep walk, sleep eat, and can become hyper sexual. Also, if you force yourself to stay up after you take it, you will become high. So I have to be locked in my room when I take it.

My doctor then told me that I needed to prevent spreading the virus. He said "So no sharing drinks" I interrupted with "Not a problem, I don't share anything anyway. I'm a germaphob". He then continued and said "And no kissing boys", he then paused, turned and looked at me and said "or girls for that matter".

So basically, my doctor thinks I'm a lesbian and now I'm turning into one of my patients.

The Fifth Avenue

This is what a Chrysler Fifth Avenue looks like:


Let me tell you a little about my precious Chrysler Fifth Avenue. When it's cold, the engine will turn off if I let it idle. Meaning, that it I come to a full stop for too long (IE. about 10 seconds), the engine will shut off. I've learned that if you keep the gas and the break on, you can avoid the engine failure, but when there's snow + ice, there's no hope. Plus the windshield wipers only work when they want to. Also, I can no longer take my car on the freeway, because every time I do, the day after something goes horribly wrong with the car and I have to take it to the shop. My mechanic's name is Frank, and he's the best mechanic/most honest man I think I'm ever met (if he wasn't 50 and married, I would totally date him). If you need a mechanic, please, go see Frank. He basically knows me by name, well he knows when I say "Chrysler Fifth Avenue", that I mean business.

I think I want to write a book called "The Adventures in the Fifth Avenue", because my car is basically out of control, and I have so many stories. Maybe that's what I'll do after graduation.

Ice Capades

So I was walking on campus, minding my own business, when I approached this set of stairs. The stairs were covered in packed snow and were every slick. As I was setting my foot upon the top stair, I told myself, "Whitney, you are going to fall on these stairs". So I tried turning my already placed foot sideways, so that if I slipped, it would slip on the stair and not down the whole flight. Sure enough, in the process, I lost my footing and slipped. I fell hard, and hit every single stair on the way down the flight.

I think the best part about the whole thing was that I was surrounded by people who acted like nothing had just happened (or maybe it was the giant bruise I got because of it?). Of course I was laughing hysterically throughout the whole event (which seemed to last over 5 minutes). When I initially started laughing, the girl who was walking in front of me, turned around and glared at me, as if you say "you idiot". I managed to say "I knew that was going to happen". But she didn't care, and she and her friend kept walking in front of me extremely slowly and took up the entire icy sidewalk so I could not pass.

On the way home I was just smiling about how great my life is. I mean: I'm 21, I'm single, I'm graduating from BYU with no plans for the future, I drive a Chrysler Fifth Avenue (if you do not know what this is please google it and have a great laugh), and I work in a forensic unit at the State Hospital. I was also laughing on my way home, which made me think the people around me probably thought I was laughing at the voices in my head.