Dropped On My Head.

It's been awhile. I blame my head. But lately that's all I seem to do, so maybe I'll blame my laziness instead. Yes, that's better. Speaking of my head, I have TONS of funny stories to post. Seriously. Being able to laugh at myself has been extremely helpful during the last year of my life... otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'd have some serious issues. Or more issues than normal.

So my headache. Yes headache, not headaches. Just to review or if you didn't know, it all started last October when I felt like I was getting sick. A horrible headache came on all of a sudden and... we've been together ever since. So bottom line, I've had a headache since October with varying degree of pain and so far, no doctor has been able to figure it out.

I've had/done/tried/begged for/been coerced into/endured:

-migrane medication
-CT scan
-ER cocktail mixture (meds)
-MRI scan
-beta blockers
-anti-epilepsy meds
-multiple blood tests (too many to count)
-ENT visit to check for contact points
-occipital nerve block
-Botox injections
-spinal tap
-TENS muscle stimulation
-narcotic/serious pain meds
-anti-imflammatory meds
-massage
-acupuncture
-allergy elimination diets

-AND pretty much every medication (and therefore more side effects than I care to remember) my neurologist could think of before he deemed my case as hopeless (more or less). True story - my neurologist gave up on me. Haha. Currently, I am treating a disease I got diagnosed with about a month ago through hormone replacement therapy and my new (favorite) nurse practitioner is hoping maybe it'll also help my headaches.

Hopefully this paints a picture at how desperate I have been/am for an answer to why I am constantly having a headache. Not only has it been completely exhausting physically, it's been emotionally draining. My doctors recommended seeing a counselor because of how emotionally taxing a chronic illness can be. I have always been wary of counselors/therapists, but honestly, I think everyone should have a therapist. It's seriously the best thing. Sometimes we don't even really talk about anything in particular, but having that third party outlet is oddly refreshing and relieving. I used to think that only crazy people saw therapists and I've been very hesitant to tell people I have one. But I think it's important to be open about it so I don't perpetuate the stereotype that only people who are skitzo or totally wack can have therapists. But maybe you're reading this and you think I fit into that category. Hopefully not. Anyways, I thought I'd throw that in here because I have some pretty strong feelings about the whole counselor/therapist thing. Get one.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, headaches suck. But what I'm trying to say is if you ask me, "Have you tried ____?" The answer is probably yes. Sometimes it's exhausting when people are constantly telling me to try this or that. But that's not to say I'm not extremely grateful for all the support I've gotten throughout this whole thing. It's really humbling actually. There is just so much concern for me from friends and family. I'm so blessed.

Probably the funniest thing is people will ask me, "Did you hit your head or something and you just don't remember?" Well, most likely I was dropped on my head as a child, but I use that to cover my other weird quirks, so I've been racking my brain to think if something else comes to mind. Surprise! I finally thought of something... well that's a lie - I found two pictures.

You're going to think I'm a nerd (if you don't already) for taking pictures, but I really wanted to post about these falls to show how clumsy I am. But now I'm thinking maybe I really DO have head trauma.

Event #1: I was on my bike and I didn't see this huge pile of dirt as I raced down the driveway. Hit the dirt and thud! I was going to post about how I was on my way to Brady and Alyssa's apartment - hence the things I do for a social life. Ha! PS it was dark when this actually happened which is why I didn't see it. I was still laughing about it the next day so I took a picture.

Event #2: Short story - I forgot something and ran back inside to get it on my way to a wedding. Stopped short because I forgot running in the snow is a bad idea.

So there you have it. Maybe my brain is just rattling around because I fall so often and the doctors don't have the heart to tell me I'm just clumsy and that's all there is to it. Case solved! So let it be known that the answer is YES! I have fallen and hit my head! Multiple times. Maybe that's why I have a headache. But probably these pictures only prove that I'm a nerd who documents her own clumsiness for other people to enjoy.

Finals and Friends

 

In honor of BYU finals wrapping up, I thought I'd finally write this long overdue post. This is probably one of the select stories that I hope I never forget. Fortunately, it is immortalized on camera.

Keep in mind that although this experience was funny (at least to us), the moral of the story is "Finals Week breeds friendship."

*You can read the following for the context, but skipping straight to the video works too.*

Scene: Courtney and Sydney and I are sitting in our living room reading, because in Court's family it is a tradition to read a Christmas story every night in December. We are also waiting for her visiting teachers* to show up.

*Visiting teacher = In our church we have pairs of girls in the wards who visit each girl to get to know them and to make sure they are doing alright and to help them in any way they need. They usually come to say hi/talk and share an uplifting message once a month. Its a system of having each others' backs making sure everyone gets taken care of and has someone to be there for them, and provides an opportunity to serve each other.

Because of the situation of all three of us being in the same room, Sydney and I decide to just hang out and listen while Courtney talks to the two girls who came to see her (which is not usually the case and I don't know why we stayed but I think we were just lazy and didn't feel like standing up).

How it all started: Obviously everyone's minds were on finals and so Syd and I listened to the updates of how each girl's exams were going, what they were nervous for, etc... Somewhere in the conversation, our friend, Jess (one of Courtney's visiting teachers), mentioned that she was concerned about waking up the next morning for an early final. We brainstormed a couple ideas - maybe a louder alarm or going to bed earlier - but apparently none of that was going to help. And as is Courtney's way, she asked if she could help somehow.

Courtney asked if she could come knock on the door to help Jess get up or maybe check on her to make sure she was up before she needed to be leaving the apartment. Well that wasn't going to cut it. Brainstorming ensued...

Open the window and let the cold air wake her up?

Too boring.

Knock on her window with a piece of wood?

Not loud enough.

Open her window and shoot her with a nerf gun?

Too soft.

Poke her with a stick or other long object, perhaps a wooden spoon?

Perfect.

Mission WOODEN SPOON: After multiple failed test runs of nerf gun target practice (apparently too soft to wake someone up), it was agreed upon that this was an acceptable plan and would likely be successful. It was only after Jess and Lisa left our apartment that we realized what we had agreed to. Although we had agreed to wake up extremely early, we couldn't stop laughing so it took us awhile to get to sleep. All I could think was, "Is this for real?" But ultimately we hoped we could all help each other out and make Jess' morning a success! Plus, who doesn't want an extremely unique adventure at 4 in the morning???

Before I release this video for your enjoyment, please keep in mind that it was very early for all of the people involved, so lack of fashion, strange comments, and red eyes are part of the deal. It's just a fun story and we all had a good laugh, SO... don't whip out your popcorn and haterade to watch this haha.

So whether you're failing all of your exams or getting negative hours of sleep or you wore the same outfit everyday of finals, remember that finals week is not inherently evil. Just grab a nerf gun, wooden spoon, fencing sword, or other weapon of your own choosing and poke someone with it. I promise it will either give you a great story or land you in jail... which, in the end, makes for a good story.

There's always room for some of these (especially if you're "studying" right now):

 

Not alone

Well I've been wondering if my life is unusually full of awkward, painful moments and experiences. Today I realized I am not alone. In fact, my experiences are nothing compared to some. Here is one that made me laugh so hard I cried. It is the funniest thing I've ever read/imagined.

http://hahasforhoohas.com/the-fart-that-almost-altered-my-destiny/

My sympathy also goes out to these people... or my gratitude for their humor.

One in a million

*Names have been changed to protect identities, but, if we are being honest and realistic, mine is the only one that really needs it.

Today I ran into a friend from high school who I haven't seen in a really long time. We chatted for a little while and since we are at BYU, of course the subject of dating came up. After taking some time away from the dating scene and being in Romania, I've become very detached from the notion of dates. So when this friend, we will call her Wemily, asked me if I wanted to go on a date, I did the normal, "Oh definitely/ I'm totally a cool girl/ who wouldn't want to date me?" thing. Unfortunately, I wasn't even considering the possibility that it would be so soon. All of a sudden I was volunteered to go on the infamous BLIND DATE for that evening.

BLIND DATE= noun. (1) An incredibly unfortunate way of meeting new people that usually ends up in more than one  awkward friend who you only know as the person you once embarrassed yourself in front of by doing that one thing you do that only your mom thinks is "special." (2) A dating activity beginning with high expectations, resulting with much lower success rates.

Anyways... it's 8pm and I have an hour before the date starts. I get ready. It's 8:07. I try to read about epigenesis in my textbook but after ten minutes, I'm still reading the same paragraph without anything sticking. I go and chow down on some carrots. 8:20. I have no idea what I did for the next 40 minutes... it's all an unproductive blur.

Wemily texts me about 8:45. "Text you when we are on our way"

"Ok call me if you get lost"

9:00 No text.

9:13

9:33

9:48 Ok time to figure out if this date is happening or not. Call Wemily.

No cell service.

Oh, poop.

By this point, I realize that despite not moving my phone from its spot on my desk, I am in a dead zone and am most likely the problem for not currently being on a date.

Oh, poop.

Now I'm running around my apartment trying to find a spot that will let me call Wemily and explain the situation. It's full on Lion King with my phone. I am super embarrassed because I realize that they have probably been searching and trying to find my remote apartment with no help from me for the past hour. I try not to think about it though. I try all the usual spots with no luck. I go outside and run around outside. Still no luck. I pace around my apartment feeling completely out of options, then I see the balcony. One last chance, I think. (Dramatic, much?)

Out on the balcony I tried calling Wemily, my best friend, her bf, my mom... you get the picture. I was desperate - I did not want to look like a completely incompetent idiot. I finally give up and turn to go back inside.

Oh, poop.

You may soon be wondering this question, "What sort of incompetent idiot closes the door behind her just to find service on the balcony? Isn't that completely inefficient and dumb?" Don't worry people, I asked myself the same question when I realized the door lock had slipped down when I closed it and I was now locked outside on my balcony with no cell service. Believe me when I say I tried extremely hard to open the stupid door. It only made me look like a bigger idiot.

So I'm stuck on my balcony. A group walks below and I pretend that I am on my balcony of my own free will, just chilling. Believe me, it was hard to hide the panic and gross realization off my face. Luckily they ignored me for the most part and were speaking Chinese so even if they commented on my situation, I had no clue.

Stuck, stuck, stuck. My only options are to get someone to go in through my apartment and unlock the door or climb over the balcony and make the jump down. There's no way I'm subjecting myself to more embarrassment so logically I secure my useless phone and climb over the balcony. On my descent down, I am very aware that this choice may be even more embarrassing if someone walked by mid-monkey pose and if I happened to break my ankle it'd make the whole situation even more comical. Only not.

Fortunately, I stick the landing and upon entering my apartment I finally get through to Wemily. I haven't used that many "sorry!"s in a really long time. Wemily tells me that my date is on his way to pick me up and has my number in case he gets lost. Because we know how well that worked out last time. I say sorry one more time and mention my apartment number.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to say, I'm in number 2! Ok bye!"

This doesn't seem odd or funny until you know that I do not, in fact, live in apartment 2. What possessed me to say that, you might ask? Probably the evil dating god that has obviously been facilitating my dating life the past couple years. But no, I have no idea why I said that.

So I plant myself in a spot that I know I have service in and wait.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Eleven minutes.

Twelve minutes.

Knock, knock, knock on my door.

OK. Sigh of relief. The wild goose chase is finally over. I open the door and there stands my date. We introduce ourselves and walk to his car. I'm feeling really bad about the whole thing, but try to forget about it and just have a fun time. But little do I know, there is so much more to this story.

Remember that whole lapse of sanity when I said I lived in #2? Well since my date was not a mind reader or given some sort of inspiration/revelation as to where I actually live (although that would have been a sweet tender mercy that he probably deserved), he, being completely rational, went to #2.

"Hi, is Chelsea here?"

"Oh yeah let me get her." says random roommate in #2.

Oh, poop.

WHAT ARE THE CHANCES. One in a million.

So "Chelsea" comes to the door in her basketball shorts and t-shirt looking completely intrigued as to who her visitor is. This is the problem with blind dates. You walk into them completely blind. And you know what happens when you move the furniture around in a blind person's home.

"Hi I'm Wryan, are you ready to go on our date?"

You can imagine the surprise written across other Chelsea's face. "Umm... what are you talking about? Who are you again?"

"I'm your date...? You know, Wemily set us up and it's been a crazy time trying to find you. Am I missing something?"

"Yeah, I don't know anything about this date... Are you sure you're in the right place?"

This conversation is completely an invention of my imagination as to what took place, because I was actually just sitting in my kitchen waiting with no knowledge of the proceedings taking place downstairs.

Luckily, by one more random coincidence, one of Wryan's friends happened to be hanging out in that apartment so they put their heads together and figured out what had happened. Thanks to our super awesome ward clerk, they managed to find me on the ward directory, leading him to my correct door... probably thinking I was soo not worth the effort (I was thinking the same thing, but don't worry - I decided I totally am. Ha.).

So there you have it. The date was fun and provided a lot more good laughs, mostly at my expense, but still fun. If nothing else, it made for a great blog post.

Moral of the story: In NO circumstance should you close a balcony door behind you when you are alone at home. Or agree to a blind date when you are having a completely-incompetent-idiot sort of day. Or ask me on a date for any other purpose than entertainment and a legendary dating story to tell your grandchildren.


*Funny note: When my date was at #2, he tried calling me... of course my worthless-piece-of-crap phone received no call. Curse you evil dating god. You're ruining my life.

Let's talk about groins

ATTENTION: This post contains the word “groin.” If you are not comfortable with that, please discontinue reading.

Before I tell this story, you have to know a couple of things. First off, I have been training for a half marathon and I just got to a point where I actually want to go running (this is a big deal, in case you were wondering). Secondly, I am in BYU's ice skating class and it's seriously my favorite thing because I want to be Michelle Kwan... remember that because it is important. Finally, you should know that I'm a dancer and every Tuesday night I go with a friend to a jazz/contemporary class that rocks my world. Ok I think that's all the background info needed...

It all started about three weeks ago. Ice skating class was going great and I was beginning to convince myself that if I worked really hard maybe I could go to the next Olympics... I was ripped out of my daydream into reality as I watched my instructor explain/demonstrate those lunge things that all the pros do.

"You mean I am going to be able to actually do that?!” Says the girl to my left. “I thought this was the beginner's class!"

Of course I was sort of thinking that, but seriously, "Shh!! She might change her mind!" was all I said as I pushed her to the ground... haha just kidding, I was too excited to try to intentionally push some random girl to the ground, but I will admit that’s definitely happened on accident before.

Anyways, this isn't a huge part of the story, but I love ice skating so I'm making it a big deal. So we do our lunges and it's halfway successful and we even learned how to do turning lunges. This is what I looked like, NBD.

WELL… I was too excited to take the you-need-to-stretch-because-someone-pulled-their-groin-last-class advice from my teacher. I did a few practice lunges and then I was going across the ice, trying to look like Michelle Kwan.

Now you’re probably thinking this is the point at which I, too, pulled my groin, but surprisingly, all that happened was a lot of sliding on the ice with my face and struggling to get out of the way before someone ran over my fingers before they got a face full of ice. So no foul there. I’m still not disillusioned with my dream of becoming the next Kwan.

Fast-forward four days to Tuesday night. Life is GOOD at this point. Running had been going well and all I wanted was to go to dance and just dance and have fun. All was going according to plan when I had the dumb idea to crack a joke about pulling my groin as we did side switches/turning switch leaps (aka death) across the floor. Murphy’s law worked like a charm and BAM! Pulled groin. You’d think I’d be smart enough to sit out for the last twenty minutes, but if you ever thought that, you are wrong.

OK so I know that this whole story was probably anti-climactic, but hang with me till I tell you how a pulled groin can ruin your social life.

Case study #1 (Later that night):

Roommates (you know who you are): “Chelsea!!!! You need to come to Sammy’s with us cause the whole ward is coming and if you don’t come people will know you aren’t social and you won’t get invited to do anything EVER again…” (true story)

Me: “ Um… I pulled my groin tonight at dance… so probably not…” (throw in a moan to let them know I’m really in pain… in case the huge bag of frozen peas protruding from under my shorts didn’t clue them in)

Roommates: “Oh it doesn’t matter! Come on, nobody will care that you are sweaty and gross and wearing clothes unacceptable for going out in public. We’ll get your bright yellow rain boots so you’ll have a conversation starter!!!”

(Yellow rain boots dropped in my lap)

Me: “Ha ha ha funny joke guys. See you later, have a good time!” (really hoping this won’t go on for much longer)

Roommates + boys from ward who just walked in: “Oh come on! We’re making you go! You could meet a cute guy or something.”

Me: “Ok you’re right. Let me practice what I’ll say first…”

At this point I proceeded to exercise my charm and poise as I pretended a boy asked me why I looked miserable in my awesome yellow boots, telling him in a loud voice over the noise of the whole ward in a little restaurant that I “PULLED MY GROIN”… and did he want to go on a date with me? Wow this is fun being here with all these people looking at me funny, this is definitely worth the social status my roommates promised me…

After laughing at my expense, or with me, or whatever, I assured the good-looking people in my apartment that going would NOT be in my best social interest, and probably theirs too. Convinced with my argument, they left with words of encouragement and advice about being social. I still can’t decide if I avoided social failure or not on this one…

Case study #2:

Next morning. Roommate marathon training run. Half a block away from the apartment.

“Yeah… I’m gonna have to sit this one out…”

Running with roommates = NO GO.

Social exile.

Case study #3:

“Um… hey, are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, totally, no big deal…”

“Really? Cause you look like you’re in a lot of pain.”

“Yeah… I pulled my groin the other day and it still hurts…”

“So it’s not because you just fell up the stairs onto your face?”

…

Moral of the story: If you want to use your injuries to get sympathy or attention or elevate your social status, don’t pick a pulled groin. It makes people uncomfortable.

Motivational People

Last night my roommate and I were talking and I started thinking about how much other people affect my life. Sometimes it's just the little things like talking with your roommate till 1AM or going to lunch with a friend that really make life seem brighter. Lately I've realized how motivational my friends are and how most everyone I interact with makes me want to be better.

For instance, in the next little while I may or may not be posting about a spontaneous road trip down to St. George that involves running a half marathon. I'm not quite sure how it happened but last night, my roommates decided it'd be hilarious and fun if we all ran a half marathon that is less than two weeks away. I guess I'm still wondering about how funny it will be when I am carried across the finish line on a stretcher... maybe it'll be one of those things that will be funny and I can laugh at a long time after... a really long time after. Anyways, the point is I just appreciate the motivation to be better even if it is a seriously psychotic and extreme form of public humiliation... I mean exercise. I have great friends.

Everything that's going on with people in my life made me want to express how I feel when I am inspired by them... and only YouTube could satisfy my desire. You've all probably seen this before, but seriously, it gets better every time. Plus, this kid makes me want to achieve all my hopes and dreams and do something awesome like becoming Shamoo's whale trainer like I've always wanted to, and all in like what? 55 seconds? Yeah he rocks my worlds.

A BLOG: PROBABLY THE BEST DECISION I'VE EVER MADE...

So I guess I am starting a blog. Why? "Cause, like, duh... everyone is like so doing it, guurrll!" Thanks for the social advice, made-up-popular-girl-in-my-head-who-occasionally-lends-advice-about-what-is-cool! Don't worry, I AM being treated for the voices in my head. Anyways, hopefully this should be fun and I will have something to post about. BUT I do have to throw out a disclaimer that this could be the dumbest blog ever or the most boring. Or maybe even so juvenile that people will love to read it so they can laugh at and make fun of what I post. I wish I could say I've never done that, but instead I just want to thank all the hilarious bloggers out there that have entertained me on more than one night. Maybe I can return the favor? We will see. If nothing else, this will be a place where you all can read and see some of the things I do for a social life here in good ol' P-Town.