Iowa Heart Center

My life as a home-bound cardiac patient. In case there was any question...no; I did not change outfits all weekend


Christian really enjoyed taking this one. Hah...


I was counting down the seconds until I got to remove it.


Don't think those circles were fun to remove.


Sadie did not sleep on my bed voluntarily. I made her.


Unfortunately, the 24 hours I spent at home were insanely better than those I spent outside of it.

I have never been topless in front of more people than I was this weekend. I hate my heart.

I am so sick of hospital smells, gowns that only open to the front, incompetent nurses, long needles, wasting blood on laboratories, one-on-ones with ridiculous doctors, awkward silences, and leaving my mother behind in the waiting room.

Home Alone

I asked her to stay but she wouldn't listen
She left before I had the chance to say
Oh
The words that would mend the things that were broken
But now it's far too late, she's gone away

Every night you cry yourself to sleep
Thinking: "Why does this happen to me?
Why does every moment have to be so hard?"
Hard to believe it
It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you

The taste of her breath, I'll never get over
The noises that she made kept me awake
Oh
The weight of things that remain unspoken
Built up so much it crushed us everyday

Every night you cry yourself to sleep
Thinking: "Why does this happen to me?
Why does every moment have to be so hard?"
Hard to believe it

It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you

It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you

Of all the things I felt but never really shown
Perhaps the worst is that I ever let you go
I should not ever let you go, oh oh oh

It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you

It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you
And I won't go home without you
And I won't go home without you
And I won't go home without you

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6voJ1sgY_0

This song describes my life perfectly right now. I can't stop listening to it. It's not even that great of a song...but Maroon 5 captured my life in a snap-shot...only in their music video version though. The lyrics without the visual make it seem like it's going to turn out okay...but in the video you see the more realistic version...the one that proves real-life doesn't turn out like Cinderella's story.

People Who Aren't Friends

'Friends with benefits' - is there really such a thing - or should it, in all actuality, be named something more along the lines of 'acquaintances who hook-up with each other on a consistently regular basis?'

My Cosmo once told me that the 'friends with benefits' package was a perfectly logical relationship...I loved the idea...I reveled in the idea. As a strong protagonist of both male and female single-hood, I support any and all physical contact with the opposite sex...as long as there is nothing serious up along the long road ahead. However, after several ridiculously bad encounters, I think I'm beginning to disagree with my once very strong, positive opinion concerning the matter...I think I'm actually beginning to lean towards a strong opposition of 'friends with benefits'...and unfortunately becoming a non-believer in what was once such an inspiring concept.

In my experience, a physical relationship without an exclusive relationship fits in one of three categories:
1. random...and probably never going to happen again
2. the result of recurrent contact during a time of neediness, desperation, or boredom
3. the unfortunate end of a friendship

I have yet to experience the joy of having a guy friend who is also someone I continually experience 'benefits' with.

So where are these boys who seem so ideal? I've had guy friends who, with what has become the inevitable, unfortunate loss of their friendship, have turned into a casual something else; I've had guys who I've spent the night with...who I've faked friendship with afterward in order to make it seem a little more okay; I have also had guys who I really just meet up with on weekend nights for a little fun. I have never once hooked up with a guy who it's been possible to either retain or build a friendship with after the act.

Someone You Hook-Up With = Someone You Are Sexually Attracted To. If you are really, truly friends with someone - so much that you honestly enjoy spending time with them and really care about them...and you are attracted to them sexually - so much that you have a physical relationship with them...what does that equal? It sounds to me like a relationship.

Friendship + Attraction + Overall Enjoyed Companionship = A Hell Of Something That Resembles Something All Too Similar To A Relationship.

'Friends with benefits' do not exist.

The idea of 'friends with benefits,' in this depressing reality, is simply nothing more than another one of those myths the less-committed of us unsuccessfully strive for.

Unfortunate Leg Amputation

Running accident. Fell on the ice. Christian took this after I had already washed it off once...blood just kept coming. How gross is that?

I hate running.

Why does anyone do it? It's the most nonsensical, unjustified activity which is left to only daft, ignorant idiots who believe going for a run is an intelligent decision.

Why don't runners switch to walking, ellipticaling, swimming laps...all are such better options. Why don't runners, namely myself, end their shameless compulsories?

When I'm out of shape, I kill myself to get in shape - and I enjoy it for the first few months.

Then it starts to get ridiculous.

An in-shape me = an obsessive runner. If I feel like I can run it, I'll probably try. Contrary to what I have always been told, this mind-set has never once lead to a happier, better me. It usually leads to something along the lines of the above photo.

Example. On a good day, an in-shape me will plan a ridiculously lengthy route, finish it, and feel accomplished. Good days almost always lead to sore, bad days. On a bad day, an in-shape me will plan a ridiculously lengthy route, not finish it, feel like crap, and send vicious hate messages to her head that probably won't register because her head feels like falling off due to the unnecessary, splitting head ache caused by her absolutely absurd run.

Wow. That was most definitely a very long run-on.

Anyway. There are always more bad days than good. Point = good day --> bad day --> bad day --> bad day...and repeat. It's a vicious cycle, and I seem to be completely incapable of ending it.

I'm either about to start an 18 week marathon training program...or set an exact weekly, winter mileage for myself.

I'm like a tape that keeps rewinding herself automatically - I need to wear out.

I should just fall and literally shatter a leg. I wonder if they'd amputate it...putting me out of my never-ending misery.

The End of the Line?

I'm usually an avid promoter of reading the book before watching the movie. However, in the case of The Golden Compass, I admit...I sway the other way. I picked up the book earlier this break, tried to get into it, made it to about page five, and put it down. If I'd been about 13, it might have turned out differently.

I love children's books. It's sad that I'll probably never really get into another one. Harry Potter seems to have been the end of the line.

Even worse than an aversion to children's books - I no longer get into most books so easily. I feel like I'm more critical than most readers. Instead of falling in love with books on best seller lists...I lean more towards fact, rather than fiction...realistic books over fanciful ones. I love Russian literature, classic novels, and most things historical; they're the only ones I can't seem to fault. That's so depressing.

"Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, and which Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote those books."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Three Weeks

I have approximately three weeks left until the first day of second semester. Don't worry though...I've already had two syllabi e-mailed to me...and of course, both were complete with about 50 pages of reading each.

I love my life. I love my life. I love my life. Repetition is the key to believing.

I sound like a self-help book. Disturbing.

goals for the next three weeks:
1. make a New Year's resolution
2. refrain from texting any nasty text messages, as a response to those of disgusting, slimy people
3. stop going for run/walks...and instead, solely stick to runs
4. get a new license
5. finish the ever-dreaded Christmas shopping
6. read up on all of the Democratic candidates...I can't be considered an informed Democrat if I look like an idiot during the caucus...all because I was too stubborn to look beyond my favorite four.
7. stop wearing my favorite yellow, summer-ish purse
8. decide whether or not I'm running Dam to Dam
9. finish essays for D.C. internship
10. purchase the ridiculously over-priced text books that are not in the slightest bit worth their high price...and get an early start on the already assigned readings
11. put together new Panhel binder/PR plan
12. price, get approved, and finally send off those inane magnets
13. make new sorority wall calendar for the house...seeing as I haven't made a new one since October
14. figure out work schedule
15. learn how to make chili
16. actually follow through with my list

The Headmaster's Wife

I finished Jane Haddam's The Headmaster's Wife this morning. The book was a prime example of a bad editing job. It really goes show...pieces with grammatically correct text tower over the rest. I was distracted the whole way through with misused words, incorrect tenses, and never-ending run-ons. Upon hitting the first one, I tried telling myself I was just being picky. That was pure optimism; I was oh so wrong.

Setting Haddam's absolutely appalling 'red-marker' skills aside, the book wasn't half bad. The writing was catchy, holding my attention up until Part Four. It was a perfect, flaky read...quite possibly written intentionally for those of us who have a lot of time on our hands - definitely a good read for winter break.

The ending, unfortunately, was thoroughly predictable. As much as I love compiling clues and piecing them together, actually being right is disappointing; I think I saw it coming when Haddam first introduced the 'bad-guy.'

I'd give it a shaky thumb...right in the middle.