MOAS

This past weekend, I participated in the San Antonio Model of the Organization of American States. What is that? most normal people would ask. WELL, the OAS is like the UN of the Western hemisphere and the model means we dress up, pretend we're delegates representing different countries and discuss ideas, debate and pass resolutions and compete for awards. This year, my school represented Uruguay and this great country:

We ended up winning plenty of speaker awards, including best delegation! It's always so much fun but so, so stressful at the same time. Because there are awards, people go to win and not so much to compete fairly and diplomatically. In other words: people be runnin' games. Especially certain schools that have openly expressed their distaste for ours. Runnin' games so hard that we actually felt like simultaneously punching things/crying/storming out and never coming back.

Therefore, winning took a lot more than it should have. From Thursday morning to Saturday night, I got 5 hours of sleep, ate one meal and ingested what probably totals to over 1000 mg of caffeine. I don't know how I survived to be honest, but I did! Now that I'm sleep deprived like nobody's business, you can bet that there are two term papers and a thesis chapter due, too!

Wish me luck on surviving :)

Ketchup.

Play on words. Clever, huh? Anyway, I know it's the second post in a few minutes but something about Sex and the City inspires me to write. The same with Degrassi even though I know that one doesn't make any sense. At all.

To begin, i want to apologize for that 4 month break back there. Not only was I failing to keep up with blog writing but my book fell by the wayside. I spend about two months moping about it, wishing that school would give me more time to do what I actually enjoyed and then the other two months trying to figure out, really, why I wasn't writing. And, the good news is, I found an answer! Up until I finished the first draft of my first book (coming in at a whopping 100,000 words), I wrote to get things off my chest. I wrote to give myself the ability to live life in alternate realities. I wrote to figure out my own reality. Then, I started querying agents and got 13 straight rejections. Never got past the query letter and this took a severe toll on my self-esteem.

I could read and re-read what I had written and knew that I could do better. I saw so much potential in a complete re-writing of the story but I sincerely doubted my abilities to produce it. I decided that there was a disconnect between my brain and my fingers, preventing me from every writing what I truly wanted to say. But then I realized: I had stopped writing for myself. My blogs, my books and even my journal had become endeavors with which to impress other people. I wanted people to like what I was writing. I wanted to write something worth being liked. And bringing in that third party into the intimate act that is writing, I began to flounder.

So if this blog bores you or if this post already has you drooling on your keyboard, I'm going to have to be fine with that. I can suggest a margarita or something equally as exciting but just like Stella, I've got to get my groove back.

IN OTHER NEWS, things with the university friends have possibly started to get better? While of course I'm not a bridesmaid in the wedding, at least we're hanging out again, which is nice. I chose to stay in my college town for the summer and though it's not quite giving me the summer I'd hoped for, it has brought me closer to J and M and I've even tried making new friends (I don't usually get along with girls well, so it didn't go spectacularly).

My best friend from high school, T, got engaged a few months ago and I am so excited for her! I just CANNOT believe that she is going to get married next summer. That she's going to start her own family while I'm just a leaf in the wind. But it's good that way for now. She's always been more of a family starter and I've always been more of a leaf. I hope to get married one day but that day is not in the immediate future :)

Now, the bad news (because every silver lining has a cloud): I was diagnosed with vaginismus which is basically a condition where my vagina won't open. It just won't. Turns out I've had it for about six months so along with the physical condition, I freak out at the thought of really anything going near there (tampons included). Needless to say, it's been the cause of more than a few fights between J and I but things might be getting better soon, so fingers crossed! And for those of you who might have blanched at the last few sentences: yes, I've decided to make this blog a place where I can talk about it. If you find it something you don't want to read, I completely understand. I doubt I would want to read about it if our roles were reversed but this condition has been such a huge source of stress for me lately, I need some sort of outlet. I need to understand.

But I think that wraps up all the important things :) See you kids soon.

Excuse Me?

I won't lie to you- there is something weird about my school. I know I say this a lot (and after the whole pajama thing, how could you not know?) but recent events have led me to believe this more than ever. See, everyone at my school gets married. We seriously have what is probably the highest undergraduate engagement rate in the country. Now I'm not saying anything for or against marrying young since I know couples who have made it work and couples who weren't able to. I've always been a big believer that the success of a marriage really depends on the strength of the couple going into the commitment and the strength of the individuals who compose that couple but what do I know? Up until two years ago, I was the most romantically challenged person in this universe.

Anyway, while I've always been aware of this engagement phenomenon (seriously, the school even has a nickname for this), it's finally hit close to home with a friend I've known since my freshman year getting engaged. Just like that. While J and I were debating where to put our newly acquired Panda picture we acquired over Spring Break, she was acquiring a fiance. A fiancee. I don't know why but this is kind of alarming to me. I guess it's just a foreign concept to me. My parents married in their late 20s and my mom has always been a huge proponent of experiencing life as a single person before settling down. The way I see it is that you can't help when you meet that special someone and you shouldn't have to give up anything to be with them. Obviously, you're not going to be able to hit up the strip clubs or do anything like that but if you want to go live in India... do it. If it's meant to be, they'll be there for you. NOW, I'm not saying moving to India permanently while your loved one has a job in Canada or anything but for a few months... why not?

Like I said, all these things are far beyond my realm of knowledge. It just... stresses me out.

In other news, Spring Break was fantastic. I feel like it deserves its own post which I'll type up as soon as I'm not completely exhausted. A and her boyfriend are back from their New Mexican escapades and I'm excited to see them again.... But am I the only one who dislikes talking about breaks and things like that for hours??? I love to catch up and everything but every once in a while, you meet those people who just cannot stop talking. Really, I love you but I don't need to know that the blanket you had was of a fleece-like texture with faint orange stripes :| Bah.

LASTLY, I've becoming obsessed with baking these little things lately:

(Google images)

In all shapes and sizes and flavors. I haven't progressed past the boxed-mix stage, I've bookmarked a few recipes I'm excited to try out this week!

The Great Spring Break Debate

As Spring Break draws tantalizingly near (only 23 more days!!), people like me and J are looking forward to the warmer weather. We had another ice day today (not that I'm complaining) and another windchill temperature in the negatives. Not to beat a dead horse or anything but yeah, I really hate the cold. Which is WHY, for Spring Break, J and I are going to begin planning our trip to THIS lovely place!

(Google Images)

We're lucky enough to have similar tastes in vacation destinations so this was a no-brainer. My friend, A, however, is not as lucky. See, she's also a warm-weather creature like myself. Her boyfriend, S, is some sort of polar bear or something. His greatest love in life is probably snowboarding and A's is taking cruises. Normally, this isn't a big deal but for Spring Break, it has sparked some debate. See, their group of friends and my former "friends" are going skiing in New Mexico. I, not being invited and being the resilient person I am, didn't let it phase me too much. It was fine. J couldn't have cared less but S lost himself in complete happiness. This was his dream come true.

Now A was a little distressed. She had wanted to go somewhere warm for the vacation and she felt a little uncomfortable about going with this particular group since Evil Roommate has been trying to make moves on her man since freshman year. Still, they're going. A, on a daily basis, cannot decide if this is what she wants to do or not. She wants to share in something that S enjoys and she wants to spend the break with him. However, it is quite a costly trip for broke college students such as ourselves and if it weren't for S, it would be a no-brainer: she wouldn't go. This has caused tension in their relationship lately. As of now, she's going but arguably, unhappily. 

So I ask you, blogosphere, what do you think she should do? Clearly, this is nothing something she wants to do. And it doesn't help that S has yet to go to California with her though she's been begging since their first date. Should A go to the winter wonderland and be miserable? Would you go with your SO to a place you weren't fond of, even if it didn't seem too thrilled to have you accompany him? These are issues beyond my knowledge.

On a much brighter note, we had an Ice Day today and made Mexican hot chocolate and taquitos. We curled up in big, fluffy bathrobes and watched Fried Green Tomatoes which is actually a really adorable movie and ate Chinese food that left me feeling incredibly bloated. I guess it's the little things.

And So It Goes

I mentioned it a long time ago, but there was a time in my life in which a ghost pain made even the insertion of the smallest tampon serious pain. I went to doctors, they had no idea. Finally, I went to my doctor, who is also, coincidentally, probably the best gynecologist ever. What she found was disturbing but easily fixable: the most resilient yeast infection ever. Gross, right? I'm sorry I don't censor myself on this blog but I don't :/ Anyway, she made it go away after a week and I thought I would be all better! But no, no. That teensy, easily treatable infection left something much harder to fix in its wake. Dyspareunia.

Which means that it's up to my to fix it now. I have to find a way to convince my brain that the cause of the pain is gone and that it doesn't have to shut up my lady region and refuse to let anything pass. I honestly never consciously think about it. I guess it's just a response my body developed after months of painful penetration. And now it just won't let anything in. It's going to be a slow process to be sure but at least it's in my hands now and it's something I can fix.

In other news, my loneliness has taken a backseat to make room for the absurd amounts of homework that this semester has brought in and which I'm procrastinating right now. I don't know when I'm going to work on teaching my body how to properly behave if I'm lugging around hundred pound books all the time. And in between those two tasks, I also have to write my book. Really. I've written it and re-written portions, entire drafts. I've filled up notebooks with brain-storming and have built up this perfect book in my head that beginning to actually writing seems daunting. I'll just stick to reading Homer thank you very much.

But seriously, the drafts and outlines and ideas I've been culminating ever since I decided I hated my last production have created a really great 'in theory' book. Now, I have to actually type the words and make it something real. Something tangible. Something I can send off to the agents of the literary world and something that will garner me batches of rejection on a weekly basis but also, hopefully, for the first time, maybe a letter that shows some interest. Maybe someone will ask to look at my manuscript. And even if they reject it, at least I'll know that it's on the merit of my work [or lack thereof] and not on my inability to write a query letter more interesting than late-night infomercials. MAYBE, and this is probably asking too much, but someone could accept it. See the potential in my draft and in me and take a chance. I don't need it to be a New York Times' Bestseller or anything. I just have a story. And I know that I'm not going to be able to stop thinking about it until I make something I'm proud of and until I make something I know someone else was proud of, too.

One is the loneliest number

It's a war that's over. And even if it wasn't, it's not a war I particularly ever wanted to win. The loyalties of the people who are willing to accept a villified, completely outlandish version of me after knowing me for some years are not the kind of people I want to surround myself with. Still, when those are the only people who comprised my little circle of university friends, it's kind of hard to accept loneliness. I have some friends from high school who have still stuck by me. Two go to this school and they're doing the best they can to make sure I don't feel the full effects of being ostracized but there's only so much they can do. While they remain the people I trust entirely, they're not the people I get to see every day.

Those people want nothing to do with me and I feel the full effects of it every day. One of my good friends who's hung by me this whole time, M, is my roommate and one of the best people I could ask for in my life and because she's still friends with that group of people, I know how often they hang out, how often they invite her to things, how often they want to get together to plan their spring break trip and how much they don't want me in attendance.

I don't mean to sound whiny but I just need a place to vent completely. To express this new hurt I feel. It's not like this is the first time I've been dumped by all my friends. It happened to me occasionally throughout high school but it always seemed to all work out in the end. As mad at me as they got, they never stopped believe that I was a truly good person the way my university "friends" have. It's clear: The Evil Roommate has won this war. She went out of her way last Spring to make sure everyone knew how "terrible" I was and, not wanting to start problems nor wanting to be the rat telling the real side of the story and bringing the whole mess up, I kept to myself. Flew under the radar. And that's it.

I guess the problem is that I'm not used to being lonely. I have 5 total friends at university, including J. It just hurts not getting invited to dinners or girls' night or to fun vacations. And it's only exacerbated by the fact that the reason why all this happened is as stupid as any.

I know things will get better and I promise I'm not going to use this blog as a way to complain. It's just good to get this all out in the open. To have someone know how I feel and hopefully, maybe, I won't feel this way for too much longer.

Settling In

In the past week, I've moved into my apartment at University, been reunited with people I haven't seen since the summer and have started school. As far as education goes, it's going to be an obscenely rough semester. It's the semester of too many hours, the thesis, the LSAT and hopefully a job even though that's not really looking up for me right now. Another stresser I've come into the semester with, and I don't know if I've ever written about it here, is the phantom pain in my lady region that's been bothering me since September. September. Why haven't I gotten it fixed, you may ask? Well, I went off to London and the doctors just couldn't figure out what it was. I've been seeing my home doctor and she gave me some medicine to eliminate some common causes. One of these medicines is a cream that is probably one of the least pleasant things I've ever experienced and I have an appointment next weekend to see if it worked. Fingers crossed, folks! Because if it didn't, we gotta keep lookin'. (And for those of you who are worried about this: I've had a full STD panel and it is none of them so we're in the clear there). J's been wonderful at supporting me and he even drives me to my appointments since it's about two and a half hours away.

In other news, I've been trying to settle into the rhythm of classes. It's not too hard now, since, ever since my evil roommate fiasco, the number of friends I have at university has significantly plummeted. But you know what? I don't really mind. They were all people I was never really that close, too and people who never once bothered to ask for my side of the story, preferring to believe that I was as horrible as my ex-roommate would have them believe. It used to bother me but I think I can successfully say that I've let that all go.

I've also become obsessed with this place:

(Google images)

The closest one is an hour and a half away but that didn't stop M and I from going twice this past week. They also have 50 cent hot dogs which is just incredible. Can you believe?

A is for....

So I just watched Easy A and I have to say, it really hit close to home for me. Why, you may ask? Well, never fear. Just gather around the fire place and I'll tell you the story of something that once happened to me.

First, I have to establish the fact that I attend an absurdly conservative school. Like you would not believe. Next, I have to let you know that I was living in what I'll nickname, 'the Smart Kids dorm', which, sadly, was not actually full of intelligent children. Instead, it's where they put all the socially awkward people who had never been in a room alone with a boy, who had never been to a sleepover and who had never entertained the idea that there could be a way of life different from theirs. From my very first day there, it couldn't have been more obvious that I was different. I wore shorts that didn't go down to my knees and I didn't use scrunchies. I had had boyfriends before and I had gone to public school. All this was enough to mark me as an outsider but don't worry, the story gets better.

So my roommate was one of my best friends at the time and we were happy, or so I thought. At the time this story takes place, J had just come back from a trip to the ER and I told him he could spend the night in my room, after asking my roommate at least twenty times. No understatement. Granted, I knew it was against the rules but I didn't want to send him back to his room and risk something else happening to him and so, we went to bed. At 15 minutes past the end of visiting hours, our 'RA' [and I use the term loosely] came and dragged us downstairs, throwing an endless slew of questions at my groggy head. I answered them with as much poise and patience as I could and after a few minutes, she sent me back to bed, letting me know that I would have an appointment with the... what did they call her? Halls manager? My personal title for her was Self-Righteous Gossip but that's just me.

Anyway, I went the next day after class to speak with her, prepared to apologize for what was a temporary lapse in judgment but I was in for a shock. APPARENTLY, my wonderful roommate had not only told our RA and the entire dorm that I was 'promiscuous' but she had told the halls manager that J and I had sex about three times a day, screaming obscenely loud, sometimes while she was in the room. Of course none of this was true. I had been suffering from my fair share of lady-part problems after my stint in the ER for an intense ovarian cyst, having been put on the pill to regulate my periods and developing a UTI. Sex was the absolute last thing on my mind but for some reason, my former roommate was on a mission to tell everyone that I had. It was written on my dry erase board. Entire groups of people would fall silent when I walked by. My friends [with the exception of M] wanted nothing to do with me and the whispers were audible. I was, undeniably, the outcast. The Hester Prynne. The A.

When the Halls Manager asked if this was true, I tried to defend myself. I wasn't going to go into too much detail but I was going to say that my medical records could prove that I was too much of a hot mess to get intimate with anyone, much less three times a day. I was going to tell her I didn't know who would start these rumors but she wasn't hearing any of it. She refused to believe it. She told me I better watch my back because everyone "knew I was a whore" and if I wanted any chance to change my reputation, I'd better have a complete physical and personality overhaul or just pack up my things and move. I was a bad influence. I didn't deserve to be there. Needless to say, I was in complete shock. I could NOT believe that someone who was supposed to be in a position of authority would submit to petty gossip. I had half a mind to tell someone, anyone but she made it abundantly clear that no one would believe me. That she could make my life worse.

I sincerely doubted that. For the remainder of the semester, M was my only friend in that building. In that 500 mile radius with the exception of my high school friends and J. I found out my roommate at the time had been the one spreading all these rumors and when confronted, she finally admitted to it and then set about making my life miserable. She grew mold in my juice canteen and moved all the clocks back 15 minutes so I would always be late. I could go on but I digress. Anyway, all of the friends that I thought I had in that dorm completely abandoned me. They were all content with listening to these rumors and not a single person asked me what the truth was.

Then I left for London and I haven't had to go back yet. Luckily, I have my own apartment this year but I'm still surrounded by those same people. And that's my Easy A story! Hope you enjoyed :]