Cut it Out

So I've been talking about how I wanted to cut my hair like Victoria Beckham. My hair dresser thought it was a great idea, but since I can't get my hair cut every six weeks, or more that I can't trust anyone to cut my hair every six weeks, we decided to go with something more simple. Don't judge my hairdresser by what it looks like. I was tired of blow drying it today and just left it air dry. Katie Cullen and Kendyl have been harassing me for photos, so please enjoy.





The funny thing is that I cut off about 5 inches, and the only person who said anything about it was the secretary at my dentist's office who I haven't seen in about five years.

Paste Fericit

Isus Hristos a inviat. Adeverat a inviat. Yes it's true, Jesus is the reason for the season. And as I sit nearly alone in my apartment on Easter (Katie Cullen is the only one home and she is asleep), I've realized something.

I should have bought Easter candy when I was at the store this weekend. Seriously, I'm dieing.

I've also realized that I miss Romania with all my heart. I learned this when I turned the language of the blogspot to Romanian and could only understand a few words, when two years ago I understood about 90% and pretended I understood the other 10%.

I miss the egg game, and midnight mass (even though I received bad luck for a year because my candle went out early). I miss those days when there would randomly be a holiday that no one told us about, and the tramvie wouldn't be running. I miss the deaf gypsy man who begged me in sign language to take him home with me on an airplane. I miss the two person elevator that we crammed 10 people into only to have it plummet five floors and get stuck. I miss gogosi, and funetti, and natti waffles. I miss late night pillow talk and wearing the same over sized t-shirts everyday only to change into over sized scrubs and back again.

I miss sitting in sweaty hospital rooms for hours while I held babies and chatted it up. I miss the longest fall I've ever seen by Emily Lloyd. I miss scala and hala centrala. And Hungary. I miss losing myself (and my appearance) and only caring about those kids. I miss feeling how fortunate I am to have grown up the way I did despite the difficulties.

I miss my scala girls and podul peeps. I especially miss those kids.

I would give anything to let Raluca play with my hair, have Anca choke me, have Nicolina pull my hair, and dance with Adina and Maria. Spin with Valentine, chase Neggie, and whistle with Julian. I would love to hold Emanuela, help Stefan out of his wheelchair, hold Davids hand, and sing to Cristi. Cry with Marian, laugh with Alex, and run with Paula. Scoot with Denisa, squeeze Cosmina, and rock with Denis. Look at my hand with Sergiu, scream with Alina, and grin with Madalin. Modern dance with Ioane, spin threads with Simona, and have little Simona's wet diaper dampen my scrubs. Make weird noises with Matei, watch Monica sleep, discuss life with Murat, and help little Cosmina breath.

It's only a matter of time before I go back and become a gypsy.

Lei Hoh Mah

Have you ever tried to speak Cantonese? Because it is crazy and hard. Yes is "heih", and no is "m heih". Fun huh?

Anyways, let me give you an update. I had my last day at Utah State Hospital this past week. This is serious. I thought it would be fine, but now it's like a piece of me is missing. I mean, who's going to boss everyone around? I was fine with the whole idea of leaving until I had to turn my keys and badge in. Then I had to go to the unit without either and the guy in central control asked me if I was a pool tech. No, I've just been working here for about two years, no big deal.

Without work you would think that I'm less busy. You would be wrong. Now I'm going to school, finishing up projects, trying to sell my contract, and packing my entire room up. Not only packing, but having to decide what I want, what I don't, what I need for the next two weeks, what I need for the next two months, what I need for the next 18 months, and everything in between.

Now answers to the questions you probably have: I'm going into the MTC on July 1st, I'm excited, nervous, and basically in a daze.

Other than the fact I'm graduating and moving to China, my life is pretty boring, but busy.

Made in China

Ok, so the news is...

I'm going on a mission to Hong Kong. That's right you read it right, Hong Kong. 1 July 2009.

Seriously, I'm going to be a foot taller than everyone, and lose weight by eating rice.

I need to process this, so I'll write more later.

Best part about everything: My mom said (through tears) "Now you can get the 'Made in China' tattoo on your foot!".

Adventures of a Sunday Afternoon

Yesterday was out of control. First of all, never, ever lie, because you might become a prisoner of your own house and get trapped in your kitchen as your roommates continue to spin a web of lies.

I'll leave out specifics in case the parties involved read this, but basically I'm being stalked by a man, and he hasn't gotten the hint that I'm not interested even though I have told him that I didn't want to go on another date with him (my mom made me go on a second date because she said "I know a lot of people who hated their spouse after the first date, give him another chance".) Thanks Mom, now I can't answer the door.

Anyways, so this kid stops by all the time to 'hang out' and I either pretend I'm sleeping or that I'm not home. He is the kind to knock repeatedly and stop by later. So yesterday I was making cookies and he stopped by. Katie Cullen told him that I was sleeping, but really I was in the kitchen. He then preceded to invite himself in and was watching TV with Jessie. I was now trapped in the kitchen and he was sitting on the couch that has a view of the walk way. After panicking, Katie Cullen came up with an ingenious plan that they would leave. So they did (meanwhile Yucca's excuse was "I'll come in another car, I have to...do my hair"). So then they left and he followed them to the parking garage, so they actually had to drive somewhere. When they came back he was in the parking lot next to our house. They had to run. Katie Cullen dropped the tortillas, it was a mess.

It was probably the most hilarious/most scary thing that has happened in a long time. I was trapped in my lies in my kitchen praying that he wouldn't walk in the kitchen and see me standing in the corner saying "Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly, far, far away."

After that we decided to hula hoop and unicycle. That's right you heard me. Yesterday I unicycled. And no I'm not anymore coordinated they you remember. I was holding onto people while I peddled.

Then we went to the duck pond and saw two turtles in the water. I noticed right away that they were dead, but no one believed me. I kept repeating that they were dead, but everyone ignored me. Then Caroline Lamb picked up a turtle and it didn't move. It's head started flopping and we knew it was dead. Then Katie Cullen fished out the other dead turtle with a stick.

I went to my grandparents for dinner. The first question my grandpa asked me was "Are you getting married?" with so much promise in his voice. No Grandpa, I will never get married.

Basically it was a great day.

Buna Baby

Ok, this blog post goes out to the one and truly Emily Lloyd, because she made a special request.

There really isn't anything in my life going on that is blog worthy, well actually there is, but I don't want to post anything about it until it is final (3 weeks hold your horses Emily). I promise if you have patience, then I will update you.

But for now you are stuck with the boring status of my life. I am still not allowed to play contact sports, but it's not because my doctor is worried about my spleen, but rather my liver is tender and the fluids are now backing up into my spleen. We found this out when I was getting a physical and he pressed on my liver and I pretty much seized, and let out a groan. He stated "Did that make you nauseous?" and I replied "No, it just didn't make me feel very good." Yes, I am very articulate.

It's been really fun, I mean, I've realized that my body wants to be pregnant, because it just keeps packing on the weight, and I can't really do anything to work it off, so my all-you-can-eat diet has been really successful.

I am still single, and accepting the fact that I may be a spinster with nine cats, which won't be that bad if I don't work at the State Hospital the rest of my life and actually make money.

Recently, I've had this crazy desire to run away to France, which is really weird because I've always hated the French and have blamed them for my problems. Also, I don't speak French, so that's also a problem. Jessica, if I do go, I will send you post cards with all my love.

But I really think being a Gypsy would be the ultimate career/lifestyle. I mean, you can pick up and move whenever you want. You steal from the rich and give to the poor (yourself). You set fashion trends. And you can wear bangles 24/7.

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.