Seriously, Reader Discretion Advised

The following is part of a blog I wrote, about seven years ago, on Myspace. I originally wrote it for a different purpose entirely, but on this upcoming Sunday, April 20th, it will be the ten year anniversary of my suicide attempt. I will be writing a separate blog to mark that occasion, but I thought I would go ahead and share this, the story and some background, before then. It may be strange and awful to read, and it might just feel like too much personal information, and if so, please don't read it. But to me, it was (and is) a huge, life-altering event and I want to share it.

I'm not sharing it to be morbid- quite the opposite. I think it really, really shows just how far I have come.
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Saturday, April 7th, 2007

Okay. I'm about to show you probably one of the worst pics I've ever been in. It's me in 5th grade.

Ugh. I still cringe every time I see that. What a nerd, huh?

But 5th grade wasn't a great year for me. It wasn't as bad as 6th grade, but still bad. I was pretty depressed my 5th grade year. In 5th and 6th grade, I hallucinated a lot. A big part of my world was people other people could never see or hear. But I did. I dreamt about them all the time.. as time went on they got progressively worse. I remember one night, I dreamt that one of the people was standing beside me. I woke up, and she was standing beside me. She reached out and touched my shoulder and I felt it.

In 6th grade, I was suicidal.

I was looking around and I found this old daily journal we did for English. Flipping through it, you can see me sinking lower and lower.

This is the first page:

This is April 14th:

And I'll just type out a few other journal entries so you can see:

November 6th 2003

"There's nothing I desire more than being alone without other people. Alone is how I function best!"

November 18th 2003

-Write about your life at age 35.

"My life will probably be similar to most 35 year-olds. I'll get up at 7, go to work in a stuffy oppressive cubicle from 9 to 5, go home to my small apartment, heat up a TV dinner, and go to bed at 10. I will waste my life in this fashion. Anymore, most things are manufactured in other countries, so I'll be lucky to even have a job."

January 21st 2004

-Do you believe in miracles?

"No, I don't believe in miracles. People are on earth not because someone put us here and is watching over us, but because the conditions on this earth were somehow ideal for us. No one is helping us live, and someday we will all die and destruct. The sun will go out and we will freeze to death and starve. There are no miracles."

January 29th 2004

-Compare yourself to your favorite animal.

"My favorite animal is probably a turtle. I'm not as slow as some turtles, and not as fast as others. I'm not really green or brown. I don't have a shell, but I am very shy."

February 2nd 2004

-What kind of parent do you think you will be?

"How should I know? I certainly hope I won't be abusive. I probably won't even be a parent. When I consider what my parents went through... no."

February 19th 2004

-What do you worry about and why?

"I worry about a lot of things, big and small. For instance, if I have to give an oral report, of course I worry. But I also worry about things like when the sun burns out, the world will die and no one will live. I have bigger concerns, though."

February 26th 2004

-What are the biggest time wasters in your life?

"In my life? Life itself is a pure waste of time!"

February 27th 2004

-What are you thankful for today?

[blank]

April 14th 2004

-Is there life after death?

"God, I sure hope not. Once this life is over, I hope I don't have to endure anything else. Life sucks."

April 20th 2004

-What do you think your parents felt like at your age?

"I don't know and I don't care. Hopefully better than me."

Actually, April 20th was the day I tried to kill myself.

You hear people talk about planning it out. For weeks, even months ahead of time, they knew what day they were going to do it. I didn't really have the date planned out, but I knew how I was going to do it.

For months and months I traced over the veins in my wrists with pencils, pens, and my fingers. Some days when no one was watching, I'd take scissors or a knife or a razor and just lightly trace the veins, without pushing down very hard. I liked the feeling it gave me. I drew tons of pictures of people doing it. I thought about it all the time.

That year, we had an "integrated unit" of math and mythology, so that meant lots of little photocopied books with mythology stories in them. I liked to mess with the little cartoon characters. I'd take a red pen and carve lines and words into their skin, pretending it was mine. I'd gouge out their eyes and slit their throats. They would bleed from the mouth and every place I would cut them. I even showed these to some other people. My closest friends didn't say much about it, but I could tell they were a little worried. Most boys I showed the drawings to thought they were "awesome" and borrowed them to show their friends.

A teacher, Mr. Daniel, saw some once. It was on a trip down to a museum in Santa Fe or Albuquerque. On the long ride down, I was working on some. He asked to see them, and I let him. I didn't care. He was visibly bothered. 

"Are you seeing anyone about these?" he asked. I just laughed.

For all of my 5th grade year and most of my 6th, I never told anybody how bad I was feeling. Nobody.

But one day in February 2004, I was watching TV. One of those ads came on, featuring a student that had benefited from the state's lottery money. She said, "Hi, my name is Sarah and I work with depressed kids." Something just clicked and I started to cry and I couldn't stop. My mom was very confused, and since I was too choked up to tell her what was wrong, she told me to go take a shower, to see if it would calm me down. It didn't really, but I was able to tell her and my dad that I was depressed. Looking back I don't think I emphasized the "suicidal" part nearly as much as I should have.

My mom took me to see a doctor here in town. He prescribed me 10 mg of Prozac. Okay, to begin with, I think Prozac is a shitty drug. But I'll also tell you, at present, I take about 1060 mg of meds a day, so that measly 10 mg wasn't gonna do shit.

This is also where therapy came into the picture. My mom took me to see a therapist in Las Vegas, Judy. Well, maybe it was just because it was my first therapist,but I really disliked her. It was the first time somebody actually made me talk about how bad I was feeling, and I didn't like it.

By about the 2nd visit, she had  assessed that I was definitely at risk for hurting myself, so she wrote out a little "contract" on a sheet of paper. It said that I would not hurt myself unless I called her and talked to her first. I signed it and she made a copy. She gave me the original and told me to keep it- that it was important. I dunno, it was in the pocket of a pair of jeans. I haven't seen it since.

But on the 20th of April, I got to school. We always had homeroom first, and in my homeroom, we couldn't talk- we could read or draw (or sleep!) so that morning I started to draw. I wasn't paying much attention to what I was drawing, so when I sort of woke up and really looked at the picture, I saw it was a girl with a knife. Wearing the same clothes I was wearing that day. I smiled.

I then drew a figure next to the girl in the picture. It was lying down, beside a knife and a pool of blood. It was dead, and it was me. That's when I knew. I knew it was the day.

I hardly remember anything from that day of school, just an overwhelming feeling of relief.

When my mom came and picked me up that day, she could tell something was wrong. "Are you okay?" she asked a couple times. Every time she asked, I just smiled and told her I was fine.

When we got home, I waited until no one was in the room, and grabbed a knife from the kitchen. I had big pockets, so I stuck it in one, but I kept my hand on it. My mom came back in the room and invited me to stay downstairs and watch Oprah with her, like we often did, but I refused. She gave me a hug and I gave her a one-armed hug back, since my other hand was still on the knife. 

I went up to my room and closed the door. I sat down on my bed, holding the knife. I sat there for a few minutes. By then I was pretty much out of it. I started to trace the veins, like always. Then I started to push harder. The skin turned white from pressure, but the knife wasn't cutting. I did my best to make the knife work, but it was clear I had chosen a very, very dull one. I wasn't entirely with it, so I thought I would go back downstairs and grab a different one. I forgot about my mom. When I got downstairs, there she was. There was a split second when nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody breathed. But then she ran over to me, pushing me into the kitchen, taking the knife from my hand and wrapping a towel around my wrist. We both sat down, rocking back and forth, and she asked over and over, "Why, Sarah? Why?"

And I couldn't answer her.

The cut wasn't awful so she drove me to the doctor's office. When the nurse asked me why I was there, I just showed her my wrist. "Why did you do that?!" she demanded.

I couldn't answer her.

The doctor had me checked into the hospital, mainly so I would be under 24 hour surveillance. They had me change into hospital dress, and sit in a bed in a room. I remember nurses coming in and bandaging up my arm, and the doctor coming back to check on me. I remember taking a shower, with someone checking on me every two minutes. 

One of the nurses there was the mother of one of the kids in my grade. She was very nice to me but then went home and told her kid all about it, and that's how the school found out.

That hospital was where some of the most awkward conversations of my life took place. What can you say to all your family when they come and visit you, there, for that reason?

The only non-family visitor I had was Mr. Daniel, my science teacher. We are still friends to this day.

I was in the hospital a few days. My family always tried to have someone with me at all times- my mom curled up in a chair; my dad stretched out on the floor.

After I got out of the hospital, I stayed home for a day or two. One of my closest friends called me:

"Hey!! What are you doing?" she asked cheerfully.

"Uhh, not too much... what about you?"

"Not much.. hey, I was wondering, do you have the date of the band concert?"

"No, I don't think so, sorry."

"Oh, that's okay, I was just wondering."

"Oh."

"Yeah... hey, I miss you at school."

"Yeah, sorry about that, I should be back pretty soon."

"Good! Good...." here there was a long silence. "There's been some crazy rumors going around about you."

"Oh yeah?" I did my best to sound light, uncaring.

"Yeah... somebody's been saying that you tried to kill yourself by slitting your wrists."

And then I had to tell one of my best friends in the whole world that the rumors were true; that I had tried to do that. That still hurts.

When I got back to school, I couldn't go anywhere without hearing:

"Where's your razor blade, Sarah?"

"Did you really try you hang yourself?"

"Did you really cut yourself 13 times?"

"What a freak."

I wore a wristband over it, but people still stared and asked to see it. My therapist, Judy, heard about it and sent us a refund. I got a new psychiatrist in Pueblo, who's only answer was to "Raise the Prozac!"

Then, I got a new therapist, Loanne. We got a long pretty well, SO much better than Judy and I.  She asked me to sign a contract, like Judy had done. I hesitated, then told her the truth: I didn't think I could. So she called my mom into the room and told us both that the best place for me, the safest place for me, was Parkview Medical Center, a mental hospital/rehab place for teens, and that's where I went.

To be admitted there, I had to be driven there in a police car after surrendering anything on my person considered sharp or dangerous. Once there, they have to push a button in order for the door to open for access into the building. They let me keep my clothes, but I  had to keep my shoes with laces outside in the hall at night when I wasn't wearing them. I had stuff for my pimples, but they kept it at the front desk because it was "too risky".

I had a roommate, Jessica, who was there for depression and eating disorders. We got released on the same day and she gave me some stickers. I still have them.

There were about 10 kids there while I was and we all got to know each other pretty well, because when you're in a place like that, basically all you do is talk. Talk about your issues, talk about theirs, talk about shared issues. If you don't like to talk about yourself, you're pretty much screwed.

I just HATED it there. I was scared and lonely and as unhappy as could be. I got out after a week because I did my best to convince my doctors I was cured and perfectly good to go. I would have said ANYTHING to get out.

But I really didn't feel any better. Not at all. I went back to school and it was hell. It was like everything was closing in again and it sucked.

Then! One day after school, my mom wanted to go see something. She had heard from someone that there was the tiniest, cutest puppy at the Animal Hospital. The puppy had been abandoned at birth, left to die. She made it, though. We went to see her. She was even smaller than I could have imagined, a potato-sized dog. She needed a home and I got to keep her. She saved my life.

We named her Otis, for no real reason- my sister, Elizabeth, suggested it and it just fit. I was in such a low place, I didn't have anything to live for. But then she came.

We had to feed her from a bottle every couple of hours. We had to help her to the the bathroom. We had to keep her warm and safe. She slept in a box by my bed and woke me up at about 6 am every morning with her crying. It was summer, but I didn't care. Not one bit.

I've had so many ups and downs, it's been crazy. They finally figured out that I'm bipolar. 7th grade was a pleasant surprise after 5th and 6th. I got even closer to my old friends and made new ones too. I started dying my hair. I joined an awesome band. 8th grade was pretty good too, but my Freshman year has been amazing. I'm really starting to feel happy with myself and my life.

______________________________________________________________________

Truth be told, I've had quite a few ups and downs since then, but now I'm doing extremely well! Like I said, I will soon be writing another blog, celebrating the ten years it's been, but I just wanted to put this up first, for those of you who didn't know my story.

I know it was really long and not very cheerful but it's a huge part of my life and has helped shape the person I am today.

Thanks for reading!

Sarah (and Otis!)

Did I Mention the Coke Machine Steals Money, Too?

Close to a year ago, I wrote a blog with a couple random stories and anecdotes from working in the greenhouse at Records ACE Hardware in Raton, New Mexico:

http://jesusbeanlaiho.blogspot.com/2013/05/greenhouse-happenings.html

Well, it's probably time to do one about working inside the store!

• Being located where the ACE store is, we deal with a lot of animal life, both outside...

and in!

and of course, the animal in charge of it all...

• Like all places of business, our customers sometimes accidentally leave things behind: debit cards and reading glasses on the checkout counter, car keys on the shelves, coats in the restroom etc., etc. However, one day a rather unusual item was found left in the shovel/rake aisle: a large pair of women's pants! I wish I could explain, but we're still not quite sure what happened...
  
• It's not uncommon for customers to ask lots of questions about rental equipment or occasionally bicker over pricing, but several weeks ago I had a customer come in who tried to argue with me over what equipment we actually rent!
  An older lady came in and asked to rent a chainsaw. I think many years ago we used to rent them, but we don't anymore so I told her, "I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't rent chainsaws."
  She looked at me critically and said, "What do you mean, you don't rent chainsaws?"
  Unsure of how exactly to answer that any more clearly, I reached over the counter and picked one of our rental brochures from the pile and handed it to her. "I'm sorry, ma'am, we don't rent chainsaws any more, but here's a list of all the equipment we do rent, with their prices."
  With an annoyed sigh, she opened the brochure, then flipped it over. She then looked at me and gave me an odd smile. She slowly and clearly said, "All of this rental equipment and you don't rent chainsaws...?"
  "I'm sorry, ma'am, no. We do sell them, though, and I can get one of the guys from the back to help you if you'd like to look at---" Here I was interrupted by a triumphant cackle.
  "HA! CHAINSAW! Chainsaw! Right there!!" she exclaimed, with her finger jabbed at the word on the back of the brochure.
  "Well, chainsaw sharpen---" I began timidly.
  "Oh...Chainsaw sharpening, $5.00," she read. "Well, yeah, I guess, let me go look at what you've got for sale," she said, and took off towards the saws.
  I'm still not exactly sure what she thought would happen: I would sigh in defeat, admit it was all a ruse, and rent her the saw? Hmm.
  
• Every new year, ACE sends us a bunch of free calendars to hand out to customers that, in addition to lots of free advertising, provide a monthly bargain. They're really not very exciting, but hey, they're free! Several mornings ago, the phone rang, I answered it, and the caller asked to please speak to a manager. We were pretty busy so I transferred the call and promptly forgot about it. When lunch time came around, I went up front on the hardware side of the store to get some cokes from the machine for my dad and me. Samantha, one of our managers, saw me and grinned.
  "Sarah, you remember the caller who wanted a manager? Do you know what she was calling about?"
  "I have no idea," I admitted.
  "She was calling to complain about our free calendar," she laughed. "Apparently it didn't include phases of the moon."
  I just stared at her.
  "Yep. Apparently last year's had them and she's pretty disappointed..."
  "Damn free calendar" I muttered.
  "Your uncle says he thinks something can be arranged..." she said with a chuckle.
  So I will say here and now: the free ACE calendars are not very exciting and they don't have the damn phases of the moon! I work there and I didn't even want one... I have a Big Bang Theory calendar. And a Hobbit one. They both have the moon phases! I guess you get what you pay for...
  
• The coke machine I just mentioned in the above paragraph is, at best, temperamental. Also, the Coke guy who is supposed to come all the time to fill it only comes when we beg him. We all get kind of desperate when all that's left in the machine is a few bottles of weird Powerade. But like I said, even when the machine is completely full it's iffy. In fact, when business is slow, the cashiers on the hardware side like to watch people when they try to buy drinks. Often, the machine will do this thing where you enter the money, hit the button and the machine starts to rumble promisingly.. but just as the bottle should roll down where you can grab it, the machine makes an unhealthy lurching sound and gives you the error message. When this happens, the employees all throw up their hands and groan comically.
  
• On my afternoon breaks, I sometimes sit at my dads computer at the parts counter and play Reversi online. Let me just say, I used to KICK ASS at that game. Anymore, well... eh, not so much. I was playing today and my dad came back, sat next to me and watched for a minute.
  "Who are you playing?" he asked conversationally.
  I consulted the screen. "A Portuguese beginner."
  "Hmm...What color are you?"
  I gave a barely perceptible pause. "White."
  "Ouch," he offered cheerfully. I didn't dignify that with an answer.
  A moment later, the game ended. Abysmally. I started a new game and turned to him. "Now I'm playing a Greek beginner. You know, I used to be great at this game!"
  "Well the Portuguese guy sure kicked your butt," he commented. "How are you doing this time? Not so well, I'd say.."
  "Well, you know, when you first start a game, sometimes it's good to have less pieces. So then you can get more. And it's really better in the long run. And. And. I'm just making this up. I'm already losing..." I admitted with a sigh.
  My dad has this particular laugh he uses when I say something so completely idiotic or dorky that it couldn't possibly be funny, but it somehow still is. Like when I pull Betty's tail under my nose and say, "Dad, I 'mustache' you a question." Or when I tell him a joke like, "Past, present and future all walked into a room, and man, was it tense!" The laugh is somewhere between a chuckle and a snort of derision.
  Anyway, he gave his laugh then, smacked me lightly on the head and went back to work in an aisle a few feet away. I then somehow managed to turn the game around and win. I excitedly raised my voice and hollered, "Dad! I beat the Greek guy!"
  After a moment's pause, his voice floated over the shelves: "Sure you did...."
  
  Thanks for that vote of confidence, Dad...
  
  

Please note: the photos of the deer, bear, and skunk came directly from Records ACE Hardware's Facebook page...

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Records-Ace-Hardware/269168747665

Hey! Why not like us on Facebook?

Haaaa! I've always wanted to say that!

Sarah

25 Things about Emmy!

Tomorrow is my sister's 25th birthday, so here is a list of 25 things about her!

1. Elizabeth Marie Record was born on January 22nd, 1989. It was Super Bowl Sunday (San Francisco 49ers defeated the Cincinnati Bengals 20 to 16) and my dad bought a pizza which the nurses promptly devoured.

2. Most call her Elizabeth, a few call her Liz, and some of us (mostly family) call her Emmy.

3. She has been dating David for over four years now and they both constantly inviting me to hang out with them and eat dinner with them and go to the movies with them. It would be hard to come up with two cooler or nicer people.

4. Some people say that she and I look very much alike but we just don't really see it...

5. She shares a birthday with Guy Fieri, Steven Adler, and Sir Francis Bacon! Wow!

6. She is very much an animal person. Currently she and David have two cats, Flo (Gordo!) and Beans, and one dog, Pickles.

7. In Mid- and High-school band, she played the french horn (first chair!) and now has her own, which her cats are none-too pleased about. Between the French Horn and the vacuum cleaner they really have a stressful life.

8. She is a notary public! I still have her original stamp.

9. She is the fastest reader I know. She can seriously crank out a 700 page novel in a few hours.

10. Without her, I might never have been introduced to The Big Bang Theory and The Office, which would be terrible! Every so often she texts me random quotes from Dwight Schrute. Her latest: "R is the most menacing sound in the English language. That's why it's called 'murder' and not 'muk-duk'."

11. Years and years ago she and I had a run-in that is still a family controversy. Not wanting to sway you one way or another, here are the facts:

• She and I were home alone, our parents at work
• She and I got in a fight
• I am terrified of spiders
• She knows this
• I went to get my crayons from my backpack
• There was a huge spider on my backpack

Coincidence? I think not. But she maintains she was innocent. We may never know the truth about Spidergate... 

12. When and if I ever get a book written, I'm fairly certain she'll be the first to read it.

13. She has seriously awesome taste in music, movies and books.

14. She and I have a running argument about the lyrics in Mulan's "I'll Make a Man Out of You".

"Be a man!!/We are men!!" We may never know...

15. When I was really little my favorite movie was The Swan Princess. Emmy and I watched it semi-recently and she pointed out that the reason we never hear about Princess Odette's mother is most likely because, "Her mom was probably a... concubine or something." Thanks, Em. That movie will never be the same now  :P

16. She HATES fish.

17. She named Otis!

18. She was the foster-mom of my three black cats. If she hadn't volunteered, I probably never would have met Sheldon, Amy and Three!

19. When we met Escape the Fate at Warped Tour, Craig Mabbitt told her that the Aerosmith shirt she was wearing was the coolest he'd seen that whole tour.

20. At Crue-Fest my friend and I were too shy to go talk to DJ Ashba but Emmy dragged us down there and pushed us towards him, getting this priceless picture!!!

21. She is absolutely one of my best friends in the world. I'm so glad I have her to get over the hard times and enjoy the good times with.

22. Sure we squabble over stupid stuff sometimes, but she's always the first to stand up for me when people give me a hard time or make me upset.

23. Emmy has had a few different health problems, but she's not a complainer.

24. She loves to travel! Most of the time it's pretty hard having our mom on the other side of the country but it sure gives us a good reason to go cool places like West Virginia and Gettysburg! I just hope by the next time we go out there the water is a little cleaner! :)

24. She is great with people! She's polite and friendly and calm. I wish I could be that way.

25. I asked her the other day if she's looking forward to her birthday and she said, "No, not really.." Well, I'm excited for her! So everybody let's make this a good birthday for her! She's worth celebrating :)


HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

Love,
SaSa

A Fact for Every Year

It is my 22nd birthday. Here are 22 random facts about me!

1. I was supposed to be a boy. Though my parents requested my gender remain a surprise, the doctor heavily hinted that they would soon have a son. They even picked out my name, Timothy. Hey, what can I say? Doctors can be very wrong apparently. But just think: in some alternate universe, you're reading your good friend Tim's blog.

2. I am extremely afraid of police officers but there is one crime that I constantly commit and cannot stop doing- jaywalking!

3. I read constantly and love many, many books but if I had to pick a favorite I'd have to say A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith.

4. I also have two LEAST favorite books. One, Where The Red Fern Grows, I despise because I cannot read the end without literally sobbing. SPOILER ALERT: The dogs die and it's horrible. The other is The Last Song, my first and last attempt at a Nicholas Sparks novel. Long-winded, gag-worthy, religious and preachy. Plus, the only character I enjoy and find interesting is thrown in jail about halfway through.

5. I have several secret talents and abilities, like extinguishing a lit match in my mouth and bending my index finger so far back that it touches the back of my hand.

6. If I'm watching a DVD and it has subtitles, I put them on. Always.

7. I have a tendency to get certain songs and jingles stuck in my head for extremely long periods of time. Literally years. Like for about two and a half years I had "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" on repeat. Currently, it's the Meow Mix Jingle. It goes:

I like tuna, I like chicken
Meow Mix flavors keep me lickin'
I like chicken, I like liver
Meow Mix, Meow Mix, please deliver
So much talking, want more eating
Meow, meow, meow, meow, please, please feed me

You're welcome.

8. While not a gifted dancer, I am proficient in three dance crazes: the Macarena, the Hand Jive, and the Chicken Dance.

9. Many years ago I attempted to read the dictionary. If memory serves, I made it to the T's before giving up.

10. I love beef ramen noodles. Delicious, easy and satisfying.

11. I find pickles revolting. My sister likes to eat them at the movies, especially when sitting right next to me.

12. Many years ago, I learned how to speak Elvish. While I don't remember much, I do know enough to understand several words when spoken onscreen in the LOTR and Hobbit movies. Also, for whatever reason there's an Elvish poem that I memorized a very long time ago but still remember and sometimes recite it to myself when I'm nervous. Would you like to hear it? (I gave the spelling my best guess)

Ai lintulinda lasselanta
Pelingeve suwyer nalla ganta
Kuluvi ya carnivalinar
Vemette singi Eldamar

In the case of this poem, I remember the words but not a lot of the meanings. I recall that it is about autumn and of course the elves themselves, made obvious by the capitalization of the last word and also because "elda" is one translation of "elf". I believe "Eldamar" actually translates to "Elf-home".

Anyway.

13. Although I listen to a much larger variety of music now, I still maintain that Children of Bodom is one of my favorite bands, if not my favorite. For years and years I refused to pick a favorite COB song, partly because I loved so many and partly because it felt wrong choosing only one. But here and now I will state that "Chokehold (Cocked 'n' Loaded)" off Hate Crew Deathroll is my favorite COB song.

14. I met Children of Bodom at a meet and greet in a Hot Topic store before they preformed that night at the Sunshine Theater in Albuquerque. I was wearing a COB shirt that had Finnish on the back and I could not for the life of me figure out what it meant so I asked the band. They all kind of looked at each other and finally said, "It's just a road sign in Finland." THIS VERY NIGHT that I'm writing this blog I was looking up the shirt and I finally figured it out. Roughly translated, my shirt said, "Retards Ahead."

15. Abraham Lincoln is my favorite President of the United States.

16. Excluding living things, my digital camera is probably my most valued possession.

17. I have never broken a bone.

18. My wisdom teeth came in sideways so they put me out to extract the teeth. When I woke up I was in this bizarre panic, basically fell out of the chair and haphazardly ran across the lobby while the dentist and nurses chased me.

19. I am not a hugger.

20. I recently heard they're trying to bring Furbys back and this worries me because just about every kid I've ever known who had one has a story about waking up in the middle of the night to find their Furby wide-awake and talking to them. Creepy.

21. My sister was recently kicked by a reindeer :)

22. If you know one thing about it, let it be this: I'M OBSESSED WITH A DOG NAMED OTIS.


Happy birthday to me!

Sarah

Am I Cool or What!!

The answer, of course, is "what".

For a couple years now, there's been this fad going around where people embrace the phrase "NO REGRETS". Make it their life motto! What's done is done, no use fretting about it anymore.

I have two big problems with this:
1. I think it's kind of unrealistic and possibly even foolish. Learn from your mistakes! Become a better, more informed person by studying your past and correcting it! ...but more importantly:
2. I'm just bitter because I am completely unable to do this

Anyway for no particular reason I've compiled a small list of things that I've done which, at the time, I thought were way cool or clever or badass and now, while I may not exactly regret them, I see how nerdy they really were...

1. What seems to be a very long time ago, a film came out: Titanic, you may have heard of it? Anyway when it became available for home viewing, my parents bought it- it came on two videotapes (told you it was a long time ago!) and we watched it together. I remember being scared by all the running-from-the-water scenes and the horrible deaths. Other than that, I just remember being pretty confused. There were adult themes and jokes and words that I just didn't get, but I did pick some of it up without even realizing it. For example, one day I was at home with my mom and she needed to call the Presbyterian Church. She handed me the phone and had me dial the phone number while she read it to me. I dialed, then held the phone up to my ear. It rang once or twice. Suddenly, I flashed back to the movie:

(Just watch the first 20 seconds or so)

http://youtu.be/Q8CadIi00U4

Yep. Seized by the moment, I repeated the line, complete with English accent!
"Pick up, you bastards!"
Needless to say, my mom let out a hysterical giggle and lunged for the phone. Fortunately no one had picked up so no damage had been done, plus I learned that "bastards" is one of those words you really shouldn't say, especially at church.

2. When I was in, I'd say, 4th grade, the phrase "What's up?" just blew up overnight. I don't really recall what we said before, or why it hit so suddenly. Probably a lot of us had older siblings who introduced us to totally hip lingo like that. What I do remember, though, was that for some bizarre reason I don't even recall, I was extremely resistant to the phrase and refused to participate in its use for a very long time. When we'd be on the playground and someone would come over to me and say,
"Hey, Sarah! What's up?"
I would dramatically look up, over my head and say, "The sky."
To me, it was like:

To them, of course, it was like:

3. One of my finer qualities is my spelling ability. It probably comes from excessive reading and writing. All I know is, sometimes I feel like my brain was made with a Spell Check. Only fair considering I was ripped off in the mathematics department.

In 5th grade I participated in the Spelling Bee. For weeks before the actual Bee, we would practice for half an hour or so everyday in class. If you are unfamiliar with the rules of spelling bees, I will tell you that when given a word, you are allowed to ask for the word given in a sentence and also, for the definition of the word. Just about everybody knows these two options are just for buying time, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, during the spelling bee practices, the class would stand up in a line and have a mini-bee. When buying time, my classmates would ask, "Could I have the definition please?" and then, one day, I shook up the whole thing. It was absolute chaos!! I said, "Could you define that for me?"

BAM!

Like I said, it was crazy. After that, everyone used my version of the question. It was like:

I've just realized I have way too many of these "moments" for one blog... 

Keep your eye out for Part 2!!

Happy December!

Sarah

Career Paths Not Taken

When I was in 8th grade, my classmates and I took online tests that measured our talents and interests in different areas, which would, in theory, suggest careers that we would be well suited to. I hardly remember the test at all, but I definitely remember my results. Sure, there were a couple suggestions like "Author", "Musician", and "Therapist", all realistic and very connected to who I was and what I was interested in at the time.

Also included in the list, however, were things like "Mortician" and "Catholic Priest".

I can't really express through words how I feel about that, so please accept this picture instead.

Anyway, as I've grown older I've had no choice but to spend time thinking about the right career for me, and at the same time I've been compiling a small mental list of careers I will never have. I have listed them below along with explanations as to why I feel that way.

**PLEASE NOTE** I did not include things like "Mass Murderer", "Pirate" or "Intergalactic Space Alien" because they are unrealistic, ridiculous, and, in some cases, not currently an option.

In order of descending likelihood:

Actor: This occupation isn't nearly as out of the question as the others but I still feel it's true. I have been in several plays over the years, almost always in the background. It's true that I like reading and stories and I can actually read aloud pretty well, but when I get onstage it all falls apart, not to mention that I don't have a decent singing voice to contribute to musicals. Oh, and it could also do with a few traumatizing acting experiences when I was younger...

In Raton, every summer we have a children's play company come through town who take a week and throw on a new production of an old fairy tale with the kids from the community. Well, the first time I tried out there were too many kids and I didn't get a part. The next time I took weeks to prepare beforehand, planning my clever answers to their questions: "And how old are you, Sarah?" "I'm as old as you want me to be!" And what do you know, I got a part! Maybe because there was a big shortage of kids that year, but that's beside the point. Anyway, the part I got was one of the witch's assistants in Hansel and Gretel. It was a pretty cool part- there were several of us and we spoke in rhyme. The downside? It was also our job to do a dance dressed as gingerbread men. Yeah, you read that right. They stuck us in gingerbread costumes and we had to do this stupid dance, oh, excuse me, ballet. We were the laughingstock of the cast. Even when our families came to watch at the end of the week, the audience erupted in ridiculing laughter. Sure, it might be cute to see your little 5 and 6 years old do a little dance in costumes, but not 11 and 12 year olds.

Police Officer: This one is because of two simple reasons. One, I seem to lack any kind of presence or authority, and Two, I am terrified of police officers for no real reason. I would be unable to look into a mirror when wearing my uniform because I would immediately have a panic attack.

Taxi driver: I was tragically born without a sense of direction. I have lived in Raton, NM all my life and I can still get lost here, never mind living in a city big enough to need taxis! Let me just assure you that I do have my drivers license and I'm very happy about that. I love having the ability to drive myself anywhere at any time without depending on others. That said, I still don't really enjoy driving that much. It stresses me out quite a bit, especially when passing police officers (see above). Also, I'm really not that much of a people person and the idea of being forced to make small talk with complete strangers bothers me almost as much as navigating. Oh! And money! Charging cranky stressed out people who pick apart my driving route? No thank you! See? Thinking about driving a taxi stresses me out.

Athlete: If you've ever seen me, this is kind of obvious. I'm not built like an athlete. I'm short and very chubby. You know what? If you don't know what I look like, think back to the stereotypical "dork" in kid's movies: the short, squat kid with the glasses who carries an inhaler? Bingo! Also, I don't understand sports at all. Not in general, and especially not football. I am lost completely when it comes to football. The closest to athletics I've gotten was when I was six: I saw the movie "Space Jam" and fell in love with it, especially Michael Jordan. I seriously wanted to BE Michael Jordan when I grew up, which is strangely ironic considering the fact that I am now Michael Jordan's complete physical opposite.

Model: Again, this is pretty obvious when you see me. It really is too bad, especially because my mom and my sister are absolutely beautiful. My mom is even built like a model, tall and slender. As we've covered, I'm short and round and my face is pitted and scarred from years of severe acne. I don't dress like a model and many people might find my tattoos and crazy hair very unattractive. It's kind of funny to think about because it's when my hair is bright pink and I'm dressed in my band T-shirts that I feel prettiest.

Mathematician: I. Hate. Math. So, so much. It confuses me and stresses me out. It's not for lack of trying! I've had some fantastic math teachers over the years- excellent in their field and endlessly patient with me and my constant confusion. When I signed up for my first semester of college and I found out I would eventually have to take a math class, I actually teared up at the thought. In fact, the closest to an accomplishment I've ever had regarding math was when my 8th grade math teacher held up my math binder in each and every one of her classes as the perfect example of what your math binder should never look like.


I had a "Communications" college class a year or two ago and on the first day our teacher had us take out a piece of paper and write down several things we could not do. So, I wrote down:

Sing
Play kickball (childhood sports trauma, don't ask)
Math

She then said, "Look at your list. Now, change "can't do" to "won't do". There was that deep moment when everyone in the class looked down at their lists and "ohhhhhhh"-ed and "ahhhhhh"-ed. I looked down. Singing? Yeah, I physically can. I actually like to, when no one's around to hear. Play kickball? Ehh, harder. But I did and lived through it. Math?

I'm sorry, no. Hell no.

:)

Happy Halloween!!!

Sarah

Veloci-Cats

I have three kittens: Sheldon, Amy and Three. If you're wondering, yes, I am a fan of The Big Bang Theory.

All three are completely black and very close in size. Three is a little fluffier, but other than that they are close to identical. My mom and step-dad, Leo, also have a kitten right now and my mom has asked on more than one occasion how I can handle three at the same time. Well, it helps that with three of them, they often pick on each other instead of me.

However, sometimes it backfires.

When they are all hyper and running around like crazy, sometimes it seems more like a herd than a trio. They can behave much like a school of fish- synchronized and eerily similar. They also hunt in a pack.

A few evenings ago, I was watching TV and eating Wheat Thins. Of the three kittens, Sheldon in particular likes to steal things that I'm eating- cookies, pieces of cheese... Wheat Thins. He usually doesn't even eat what he steals, he just bats them around on the floor and chases them.

Anyway, as you might imagine, this evening was no different: I was eating Wheat Thins and Sheldon wanted one. Unfortunately for him, I am used to him and know to keep an eye on him when I'm snacking. His solution? Strength in numbers.

Amy hopped up on to my lap and started purring and nuzzling my hand. Three descended from the back of the chair onto my shoulder and started bumping against my face, her tail blocking my vision. In this moment of weakness, Sheldon shot like a mad-cat from the floor to my bowl of Wheat Thins, then streaked across the floor, well out of reach, his prize clamped in his jaws.

As I watched him play hockey with my Wheat Thin, I was struck with a thought: How similar my cats' hunting patterns are to that of the velociraptors in the Jurassic Park movies! Don't know what I mean? Watch!

http://youtu.be/z2UQv2JUZoU

Well, maybe not quite that extreme, but you get the idea. I shared this thought with several of my family members, to their universal amusement. My sister came up with the term "Veloci-Cats" and also "Kitty-Raptors."

I knew I was right on with the comparison when I watched my kittens hunt a mouse last night. Watch this video and imagine the raptors as smaller, black and fuzzy. Also, replace the human with a terrified little mouse.

http://youtu.be/jaFT6RVz5w4

I'd say that the biggest difference between the dinosaurs and my cats are:

1. The raptors in Jurassic Park actually seem willing to share the prey, and..
2. There is no way the raptors in Jurassic Park could make any noise to rival that of Sheldon's. He seriously sounded like a lawn mower!

And for the record, I'm not completely heartless. I was eventually able to get near enough to the mouse to scoop him up in an empty Cup-of-Noodles and take him outside to die in peace. Needless to say, my cats were not pleased.

Oh! And if you're wondering how the whole Wheat Thin incident went down, it ended as suddenly as it began- Sheldon batted it across the floor, where it hit Otis' foot. For a split second, time stood still- would she snap at him? Growl? Stare at him until he was able to get it back? Nope! She casually looked down at the Wheat Thin, ate it, and went back to dozing.

Bwa-ha-ha! Sorry Sheldon! Better luck next time...

Sarah