99 Problems

This morning's Damage Control Report:

(1) semi-sore throat with a slight post-nasal drip.
(Probably a rebuttal from that region of my face for locking myself in my office during lunch and having an hour cry-fest.)

(10) completely bitten and torn up fingertips.
(Because when all shit hits the fan, my nail-biting habit ensues. And why worry about manicures when I still have my car payment to pay?)

(3) cups of coffee.
(The amount of caffeine it took to actually wake my ass up today.)

(2) hours of sleep.
(Why I needed the coffee)

On the up side, I did self-consciously reaffirm to myself last night within my 2 hours of sleep that I, in fact, have not lost my optimism.

In the dream there was this massive SUV that miraculously somehow held every single one of my friends along with me. We were just driving along with no particular direction when I felt this incredible shove out of no where to the right of me. I immediately felt my chest cave in, and my body get thrusted forwards. (Not only did it happen in the dream but I know that I definitely felt something.) I frantically began looking around the car for the safety of my friends, and it felt like we were transcending into this Matrix-like space in time where I could literally see the pieces of glass flying through the air in slow motion. I caught the faces of my friends - all of them fine, no blood, no cuts, no broken bones. And just like that - the car finally came to a screeching thud-pounding stop.

I realized that everything was okay. The car accident itself was a tragic and traumatic experience but in the wake of the aftermath - I had survived. Everyone had survived. I remember hearing my friend Andie's voice calling to me from the back seat as I quickly was dialing 911. "Everything is okay."

Everything is going to be okay. I just have to keep believing that. This is small, it's a little hill on my tumultuous journey through life. And I can survive it.

So I guess a big thanks to my self-conscious is definitely in order.

Backtracking my way across the Arirang again

Yesterday I realized after posting my excitement about Obama-rama that I have a ton of unfinished, unedited, unposted posts just sitting in my post log archive. And once going through some of them, I can't even imagine why I didn't post them in the first place.

I guess the answer to that question leads to the blog post that I am undeniably stalling to write to you: what in the hell I have been up to for the past 5 months of my life. Don't worry, like any other over-analytical person I know, in due time, my friends, my super power of over-analyzing every intricate detail of my life will rear its ugly head and when it does, rest assure this blog will be the first to endure what it has to offer.

However, in the meantime, I kinda want to share these posts with you. They are intimate, of course - and I think that this absence has allowed me to step back and regroup my thoughts about why I started blogging in the first place. Why did I hide these originally? What is so ghastly un-PC about them or embarrassing that I haven't already exposed about myself? So here ya go...starting with this post I had entitled:

So maybe it's TMI but I'm utilizing this blog as my emotional pillow...

Not that I share this kind of info with my friends or rather, the blogger world (I usually tend to just pick random passer-bys and gush out all my inner most personal details about my life instead. Joking, of course. Or not.) but I haven't had a (.)(<--this will signify what I am talking about since for some reason the word "menstruation" sounds ugly, and makes it sound like I have had some disease) in five months. I figure that you have all seen me through my trying times of hair-loss, so why all the symantics? Anyway, I haven't had it in five months. Until Sunday. It was as if my uterus finally got the memo sent from my white blood cells months ago because the memo had been sent by USPS(and we all know how ridiculously slow they can be) and somehow got lost and tossed on Nerve-Ending #2879's desk before he realized that oh shit, this had to be sent to the Uterus months ago now...better late than never, and he promptly placed the memo back on its way. The memo said:

Dear Uter-i: (that's White Blood Cells' nickname for my Uterus.
Because they are tight pals and have been ever since that one time they hung out at the club and went home smashed together.)

We are sorry we over-reacted, and kicked Hair Follicles' ass in.
We just didn't like how they were getting all the attention...all those appointments to the colorists and stylists. When was that no good bitch of a body-owner going to start taking care of us? She really thought just drinking orange juice and taking vitamins was going to appease her WBCs? Dumb bitch. She had another thing comin', obviously.

So please don't take this personally. The attack really wasn't against you or Hair Follicles. We just didn't know what else to do but get radical on her ass in order to start taking better action towards her health. And we're not talkin' just physical. I don't have to tell you how kooky she is. We see how you like to pull those quirky crazy strings come your time of the month to shine. Kudos to you.

Hope no hard feelings, Uterii.

Yo homies,

The WBCs

What I imagine the sound of my heart pounding in a bed of silence looks like...

This is about the time that my heart exploded in my chest, and then I realized that the fast breeze blowing through the strands of my hair was actually the air being broken by my airbourne vehicle:

This is probably what the police report and insurance claim reads because this was all I could manage to muster five hours after the accident:

"4:12 am. Was leaving DC and following the direction of my GPS system, took the tunnel leading towards the 295 SE/SW entrance but went into the wrong tunnel heading towards RFK lot. Entered into complete and utter darkness with no lights, no signs. Tried to adjust to the darkeness and just when I realized the pavement swurved to the left, I tried to turn left but had already hit the tree with my right side and turned upside down, did a 360 degree turn in the air befofe flipping back over and doing a 80 degree swurve to a stop."

The only reason how I know exactly what direction my car flipped, okay, there are two:

1. The fact that as my car impacted on the tree I felt my entire insides lift up from my stomach to my lungs, compressing together like a Slinky being turned upside down. What I didn't fully realize immediately? That I was upside down. And I caught a millisecond glimpse out the cracked glass of the passenger window enough to see the pavement at eye level, and the tunnel glowing through the darkness at me. That's when I closed my eyes to prepare for nothing, something and everything - all at the same time.

2. My Guardian Angel: In the form of a 6"5-6"7 thin-framed man in a red Honda hatch. An image that will stick with me for the rest of my life as a reminder that the smallest instantaneous moments can quite possibly bring you the most purest form of joy that you'll ever feel in a lifetime.

Hours before I would see the "light of life" and my car was left demolished, I had spent the entire day just trudging through work. It was just another day among the many where I kept wandering the maze of cubicles wondering why I still, without fail, park in the same spot, walk through the same building and sit in front of the same screen every single day and endure the bezerk behavior of certain people who have made it a career in having no basic social skills.

By the time 5 o'clock chimed in, I was ready to leave the smothering feel of work and escape to a place I knew I could just let go: in the presence of friends, dancing and just releasing all that anger and stress out.

Several hours later, Christauff and I were doing our regular Friday night ritual of walking each other to our cars safely. We had the miracle of parking on the same street as each other (a rarity to anyone who has ever tried to park to go to a club in DC) and I got into my car and watched as he walked across the street to his. I went to program my GPS to head home, and started to pull out of my spot.

There were a lot of little miracles that night. Little bits of instances that in retrospect, I will be grateful for, for the rest of my life. The fact that I had decided to go to Ultrabar where seven people I knew were going to be there, the fact that Christauff and I always walked to our cars together after the night was through, the fact that Christauff forgot that I had a GPS in my car and had seen me headed in a different direction than he thought would be the regular way for me to get home and just figured I was lost, the fact that he then, as a great friend with concern, decided to follow behind me to make sure I was headed in the right direction - and that he kept following me until he was 3/4 mile away in his car as he watched my car propel itself through the air.

I even feel blessed that I had had such a crummy week prior. I had pictures of my brother's bedsores running around in my head, constant thoughts of my brother's legs being amputated, depressed over my job and my inability to deal with overt micromanagement, frustrated with the outcome of my future - where was I headed with my life? how was I going to get there?, hurt from the loss of a friend and caught in a whirlwind of complete and utter confusion with life in general.

But in that millisecond glimpse of the world upside down, and in the next instant when I closed my eyes and prepared for what I feared to be the end, I found myself shaking away that fear, gripping the steering wheel with both hands tightly, keeping my eyes shut tight as my heart pounded in my throat, my ears, the pit of my stomach - I just let go of every single stress and hurt that I had been consumed with before - and relaxed my body and just breathed.

When I opened my eyes, glass was everywhere, and my hands were bleeding and so was a small patch on my chest where the airbag had hit. Smoke was all around me, and I turned my head ever so slightly to try and make sense of what my eyes were seeing through the cracked and broken glass window of my driver's door: Christauff, his red Honda hatch, and him running from his car, across the pavement, to open my car door.

I walked out of the accident truly unscathed. No broken bones, no massive amounts of blood. As I lay in the guestroom of Christauff's and his girlfriend's condo that morning, I kept counting the solid breaths of air that I sucked into my lungs.

"Someone wants you around, Em," Christauff had kept saying as we drove to his condo.

This is my second chance at life. This is my chance to keep living it without regret and to realize the true value of what I have surrounding me. I was given a second chance at this journey and I am not going to waste it worrying about things that I cannot change.

I Rock'd The Vote!!!

At the butt crack of dawn (3:30 AM, on the dot), I woke up this morning feeling rather sleepy. After a quick yawn and a poke of my head over the covers to see the time on my cell, I made the executive decision to go back to sleep and skip the usual workout (*gasp!* I know).

Before I knew it, I was back in la-la-la land and within two hours, I woke up again to the sounds of my TV, the newscasters reporting from some middle school in downtown Baltimore. Something about...voting...

Oh yeah! I thought, today is ELECTION PRIMARIES!!!!!!

I know that sounds super gooberish but that's exactly how it was. I jumped out of bed, slipped into the shower, pulled on my thickest pair of leggings to wear under my pants (because not only had the newscasters reminded me to vote, but they also announced that it was fuh-reeeezing out) and a sweater and off I went.

Why was I so excited to vote this year? Because this is technically my first year voting. I know, I know... I am 22. I should have a solid 5 years of voting under my belt. But sadly, no. I just got the new voter card for when I moved to Dundalk last year, and beyond that, well...no one really caught my voting attention.

Last election, I didn't want John Kerry. I most certainly didn't want George Bush. I just wasn't feeling that "Get Out and Vote!" kinda vibe.

But this year was different. Maybe it was the fact that I hit my twenties that I suddenly took on a more proactive responsibility towards my politic standpoints. Or maybe I was just curious. Whatever it was, I started investigating all the candidates, and all of the past candidates, and how I compared with their views. Throughout all the readings, the surveys, the endless hours searching the Web, I found that my views point more to a Democrat point-of-view.

So that's when I registered. Last June.

And today was my first real day of actually voting. Placing my little voters card into the machine and going to town.

And you know what? I felt really good after I had. I think it's ridiculous to say that your one vote won't make a difference, because it certainly will. It might just turn out to be the one vote that could change this election completely, you never know.

My name is The Brave - and I Rock'd The Vote today! Have you?

I'd like to thank the Pre-Med student who came up with the "red-eye" coffee...

I know, I know... I first off want to go ahead and apologize for not being as diligent with this blog as I used to be, or how I'd like to be - this being partly because A. I am slightly lazy whenever I am home and B. I am rarely ever home after doing school/work/homework/workout/craziness and when I am home, I'd like some peace and quiet, plop myself in front of the television and have guilt-free junk food snacking for hours on end. If I start to feel guilty about the horrible things I am shoving into my digestive system and by digestive system I mean my clogged arteries, I do Sudoku puzzles in order to fulfill what I think of as "brain enhancement exercises".

Life has been incredibly on-going in the past few weeks. I can't collectively say that I've been "stressed", possibly because all of it has been "good" stress, whatever the hell that is. I think that just means that even though you're pressured to do 9,999,999 million things in a millisecond and you're perspiring hotter than a 500 T man, well...at the end of the day, you wouldn't have it any other way.

And right now, that's exactly where I am. Save for a few things here and there. Between work and school, I have little room for anything else, but I am super driven. And I love that that part of me has kicked in again. I always felt like I was able to accomplish a hell of a lot more as a high schooler because I was so completely driven by my future, but then I hit a few bumps in the road (Okay, who am I kidding? What I hit were more like gargantuan super-glaciers that had huge pointy icicles hanging off of them, all ironically aimed at me and artfully poised and ready for my demise.) and life began really really sucking.

I don't know what happened to tell you the truth. To this day, when I look back and I think about how I was, my thought process was, and then all the events that have happened between then and now, I have no particular one thing that I can look back at with a stern pointed finger and go: "AH HA! You ARE the WEAKEST LINK!" Because I think in the end, it all played a part, and it all made a difference in the successes and short-comings that have led me to the place that I am now.

But in the past few weeks, what with the new promotion at work (which I never saw coming) and school starting, my focus has been completely and utterly intent on actually succeeding in all the goals I was afraid of before (for whatever reasons). Does that mean I am not still afraid? Hell fucking no. I am readily prepared with plenty of adult diapers for the numerous times I feel the urgent need to pee myself out of sheer fear of all the choices, decisions and life paths I have to make. But what has changed is that I feel I am better equipped to just dry myself off, put on another adult diaper, and keep on trucking. I don't think I'll ever stop being scared shitless or be able to say I don't feel crappy every once in awhile, I am just better prepared for the aftermath that comes with it.

I am really getting down the nitty gritty this year. I'm not just trying to bullshit my way out of this one - I know my ass better work hard to get to where I need to go to be where I want to be. And I figure there have been so many amazing people that I have met in my (short) lifetime thus far that have seemed to have the confidence in me that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to, so it's about damned time I have confidence in myself.

I Can Drive! I Can Drive!!

Current Count:

Cons
1. slight minor bump into the side of the road, onto the curb, that I was afraid had ruined the alignment on my car.

2. Got lost a whole 3 times going to various places within the past week. Two of which I had to phone those I was headed to to get the final directions and find where exactly the hell I had found myself and the one time I was able to find my way home without any trouble at all - granted I don't know how I got where I eventually found myself, but the final result is that I made it home.

Pros
1. For one I have been able to visit friends I haven't seen in AGES. Which is always an awesome thing. I love seeing everyone, and catching up. It's nice.

2. Although J was sort of concerned that I might not be able to remember the way to Blockbuster in Timonium, or be able to navigate my way back - I insisted that I would be okay...and whatdoyaknow? I was perfectly fine! I had to drive all the way back York Rd to Towson to get onto Perring Pkwy and take the beltway there (because that's what I was familiar with even though I knew it was out of the way and a longer route) and I got home with no worries.

3. I drove all the way to DC!! Granted J was in the car with me, and I was following D - but still, I have to give it up to me, because going a little above the speed limit has freaked me out recently - due to the fact that I am just still getting used to driving again.

4. I drove BACK to Baltimore from LP's and D's house all by myself...following J... which I tell you, at 4 AM is not particularly easy. Especially cuz I was sleepy, tired, worn out from dancing, etc. But I made it. Although my parallel parking job was crooked, I could've cared less when I got home.


Now it's back to work - I have class tonight but I am soo exhausted. It's funny how just going out a few times in a weekend really wears you out to the core. I am so so so tired, and ready to take a 100-year nap.

PS. I went to LP's "Slumber Party" Saturday night - totally had a GREAT time...more on that later.

AND - I have decided that I want to register for AUTOCROSS this Spring! I told J that I am totally ready - and can't wait to go and have fun!!

Bald IS Beautiful

It's an odd occurence when something so heavily impacts on your life in such ways that it's impossible to explain it to anyone effectively and then someone, something comes along, and all of a sudden - you're not alone anymore.


Robin Roberts of ABC News recently got diagnosed with breast cancer and made the decision to keep a video diary of her journey to air each morning on Good Morning America to share with America the devastating impact that having cancer has.


This morning, Robin Roberts aired a video addition to her diary: a video of her losing her hair, and also a video of her making the conscious decision of shaving it off before it all fell out.

http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=3869407&affil=wmar

"As hard as it was, I knew what I had to do."

I sobbed uncontrollably while watching the video this morning, and cried just now watching it again. So much of my fear of losing my hair and the empowering feeling that I was left with once I took the plunge and made the commitment to shave my head came rushing back while watching Robin sit there in the chair staring into the mirror at her reflection as the hair was slowly removed piece by piece.

"When I finally did it, I took the power back. Because now I was making the decision instead of letting the cancer make the decision."

I cannot imagine how draining cancer and chemotherapy must be, and how much of your energy and will is tested in a time like that. I am so blessed that my emotional journey ended at just hair loss, rather than the immense physical pain that accompanies surviving cancer.

Going along even more with bald being beautiful - there was a segment about alopecia areata on NBC's local newscast at 5 o' clock news earlier tonight in Baltimore. A woman locally is suffering and wanted to raise awareness.

I have decided for sure that next year I want to put together a fund raiser for alopecia areata awareness. I believe that there is enough advance in modern medicine that with effective funding a cure can be found. I'll keep everyone posted as I slowly begin the process of putting together my first ever public fundraiser.

"Defying Gravity"

Something has changed within me

Something is not the same

I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game.

Too late for second guessing

Too late to go back to sleep

It's time to trust my instincts

Close my eyes...

and leap!

It's time to try defying gravity -

I think I'll try defying gravity

and you can't pull me down.

I'm through accepting limits

'cause someone says they're so

Somethings I cannot change

But till I try I'll never know!

Too long I've been afraid of

losing love I guess I've lost

Well if that's love,

it comes at much too high a cost...

And so I'll try defying gravity

Kiss me goodbye

I'll be defying gravity

and you can't pull me down...

So if you care to find me

Look to the western sky

As someone told me lately

Everyone deserves to fly

And if I'm flying solo

At least I'm flying free

To those who ground me

Take a message back for me

Tell them how I'm defying gravity

I'm flying high, defying gravity

And soon I'll match them in renown

And no body in all of Oz

No wizard that there is or was

Is ever going to bring me down!

Bring me down!

-From the musical "Wicked"

**Why didn't I hear this song four years ago?

Trying to come to terms...

This boy wants to play, there's no time left today
It's a shame 'cause he has to go home
This boy got to work, got to sweat
just to pay what he gets to get left all alone

Well let's step outside, let's go for a ride just for a while
Oh we won't get caught, well that's what I thought
until we cried

I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
For years I've been holding it down

This girl tries her best every day
but it's all gone to waste cause there's no one around
This girl, she can draw, she can paint, likes to dance,
she can skate - now she don't make a sound
We'll play in the park, till it's too dark for us to see
We'll make our way home, with mud on our clothes,
she won't be pleased...

I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down

And I love to forgive and forget
so I'll try to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older that I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go...

I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go
I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go

I'm still here,
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down

And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know...

And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go


-"This Boy" by James Morrison

Flick 'N' Pat

You know how in those cartoons sometimes, you always see Tom start to run after Jerry and then pause for a moment, only to see a "Devil Tom" appear on his right shoulder and an "Angel Tom" appear on his left?

The "Devil" is saying, "Hey Buddy, go chase after that mouse. He looks mighty tasty. You know you want to, go do it!"

While the "Angel" is saying, "Don't do that, Tom! Jerry has never done anything horrible to you, and you guys should be friends, not enemies."

As fanciful as those cartoons are, that depiction has been pretty true to life when it comes to how my thought process runs when I hit a bump in the road that I have (or haven't) seen before.

For instance, this recent idea of finally being fed up with banking and looking for a new job.

Every night, at the end of the day, I'll be sitting at home, wholly exhausted, my head hurting, and thoroughly disgusted with the lack of accomplishment I get from working at a bank, and all of a sudden, the "Devil" pops up on my right shoulder whispering into my ear: "Hey, hey, why are you thinking of getting a new job? I know you're unhappy with this one - but what if you're not qualified for anything else? What if there's a paycut? Wouldn't you rather be miserable in your life and wealthy than to be a little bit poorer and happy? And you know that the first job interview you go into your going to sink and sink hard. Plus, this boss here doesn't like you that much anyway and would give you a horrible reference if they called her."

And for some reason, I start listening to it. And I start freaking out. I'm thinking, 'yeah, yeah, that's right. I should just stay miserable. I'm too scared to do something else. I am too chicken sh-t to try a new profession even though I know I hate this one.'

Just then, the "Angel" pops onto my left shoulder. "What are you talking about? All anyone ever says is how professional you are, and how friendly you are. Everyone always says how much they like you - you've always gotten good reviews in the past. You know you're a quick learner, and you love learning new things. A new experience could be awesome for you. You never know! This could be your chance to find out what you love doing."

But I start battling back and forth between the two voices of reason in my head. There is a part of ethical logic that reaches me, and I kind of acknowledge the fact that the positive "Angel" is probably the one that I should be paying the most attention to. Yet no matter how hard I try to fully shut her up, the "Devil" on my other shoulder keeps talking. Keeps reminding me of all those negative thoughts, all that negative energy, and all those horrible memories I have in the past of failure, or not measuring up to what I wanted, or what I thought others wanted (another terrible thing that I must admit, I have allowed myself to be influenced by in the past: the thoughts and opinions of others).

One of my favorite quotes from one of my all-time favorite movies (Pretty Woman) is when Julia Roberts' character is lying in bed with Richard Gere's and they are facing each other. He starts to compliment her, and tell her how much potential she has in herself, and how she could be so much more than just a prostitute.

Her response is: "Somehow the bad stuff is always easier to believe. Have you ever noticed that?"

Yeah, I have. Throughout my life, no matter what I know that I will come out stronger and with more determination out of any obstacle - but in the beginning, the mean stuff, the negative energy, the negative thoughts: they always seem to be the easier ones to believe. Why is it so hard to truly believe that there is good in the world and that good can come to you?

I have been told by so many teachers in my life whether it be in elementary, middle or high school that you are what you think you are. "If you think you can do it, then you can do it." I always used to just brush it off. Psh, they are dorky teachers - what do they know?

And then as I got older, I realized that mindset played a huge part in my ability to see the true scope of things. The more negative life seemed, and I allowed it to seem that way, the more negative things tried to happen. The moment I started to smile or shine a light on the more positive things in my life, nothing just miraculously got cured or changed - but I was able to deal with the sh-t in my life with less strife and less anger.

This is way easier said than done, folks. Don't think I am sitting here claiming that I have all the answers, for I have not. And I know there is so much of life out there for me to grab with my two bare hands and grip with all my might. To really taste, touch, see, smell every single thing this universe has to offer me. But even still, I have my dark days, and even still, that "Devil" seems to appear on my shoulder every time.

So I decided that I shouldn't let fear guide me. Essentially, I realized, that's all the "Devil" represents. An inner fear that stems from a past memory, a present thought, a futuristic notion that something might become a catastrophe and then where would I be? Well, I'd still be alive. And that's really all that counts in the end, right? Because in the end, I don't get to take my resume printed on nice stationary into the grave - it won't matter that I got a C+ in Algebra my sophomore year or whether I was my boss' favorite. It won't matter what I wore or didn't wear. And it certainly won't matter what jobs I ever held.

That's why I started my fresh start with a single piece of paper towel. Any kind would do. Didn't have to be Bounty or the cheap Target kind. It didn't have to have the puffy "extra-absorbant" squares. Just one single piece of paper towel.

And then I grabbed a pen and began to write every single negative thought I could possibly think of. (Believe me, I wrote small.) Anything that I felt was holding me back from getting a new job. Things I felt were holding me back from attending a four-year universities. Reasons why I thought I shouldn't move to wherever it is I would want to move. All the obstacles that I could possibly think of in achieving my ultimate goal this year of owning a car.

I wrote it ALL down. Every single thing that I could think of that ever passed through the deepest cavities of my brain and tried to infest it with negativity.

There were tears. A lot of the words got blotched out. But they weren't meant to be read clearly - it was simply the act of writing them all down and trying to rid myself of all of the negativity in my life as much as I could.

The final act:

I walked into my bathroom, and stepped to the "Magnificent Negativity Disposal Machine" (otherwise known as the toilet) and dropped that paper towel right in there. (Now I know they say you shouldn't throw paper towel down there or you'll clog it, but it just so happens that I have a very very strong flusher!)

Then I pulled the latch and watched all the negative energy flush itself down the toilet bowl.

As I walked away, that "Devil" was cussing up a storm on my shoulder while the "Angel" was standing triumphantly. So I just 'flicked' the "Devil" away, and gave a 'pat' to my guardian "Angel".

HOT DAMN!

Break out the confetti...turn up the volume on the Rocky Theme Song...

Ladies & Gentleman...

I officially went to the gym today

WITHOUT MY HAT!

Although I spent the first 16 minutes of my workout looking around and nervously imagining that people were staring at my head while I was on the stair stepper...I made it through. I toughened up and just focused on making it through the workout, and turned up the volume on my iPod and rocked out to some Montell Jordan. (Yes, some people still rock out to "This Is How We Do It")

It sounds silly, but for me this was a huge step - especially since my haircut yesterday - I suddenly realized how much I was using that ponytail as a cover-up too!!! At least with the ponytail I'd pull it every which way to try and conceal the frontal bald spots - but this time, even though the one was covered, the one that graces my hairline is slightly visible. And I felt vulnerable.

But after a while, I was okay. I just kept my mind off of it. Unfortunately, my entire day-to-day process cannot be ADD-ed into recovery like a 45-minute work out - because I am constantly thinking about it whether I realize it at first or not - but one day at a time. I am just so proud of myself for making it to the gym today. Possibly because I know I'll be hanging at the beach with Mr. John Basedow, Jr. next weekend!

I also want to give a very warm thank you to my friends. You have helped make every single day worth getting up for when I felt there was no other possible inspiration. I know that I can make it through this - and I'll do it with a smile. :-)

Strength Comes in the Number 1

My life story is something of a dramatic movie/book. I can only liken this most recent experience to reading something like "A Wrinkle in Time" or "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe". Suddenly - something tumultuous happens in your life - knocking your views, your morals, your spirituality every which way - and you're pressed into these situations that test your character.


The difference is that when I am reading the book, I can cheer with full faith for Meg Murraythat she will find the inner strength to get through to the next chapter of the book along with her very different little brother Charles Wallace, or know that in my heart that the children will be able to conquer their fears and their insecurities to help beat the White Witch of the woods. But when it's just me as the character - fighting my own battles, having my character tested - it's much harder to be the third person reading the novel that is cheering me on. I had lost faith a long time ago. I don't have the full feeling in my heart that I can make it through this. Not immediately, anyway.


But I realize now that that is what is going to pull me through this. Number One. Numero Uno. The person in my mirror every morning. Myself. Me.

Today I went to go get my haircut after work. But I was nervous. Terrified, even. So I had made the decision to go to the salon (since it's in the same building as my office) during my lunch hour and take a look at some of the haircut books. I wanted to try and at least have an idea of what I wanted even though I was still so depressed about the subject. I kept thinking all last night that there was no hope for me - that any haircut would be terrible because what I had to work with was so little compared to my thick hair that I used to style. I felt no matter what route I went on - that I would ultimately end up looking like a freak. I had nightmares throughout of me getting my hair cut in a Pixie looking style, and then all of a sudden bald spot after bald spot would emerge, until I eventually lost all of my hair. I woke up in a sweat and panic, wondering if this haircut thing was such a good idea or not.

Just like Meg Murray, I went to face my fears. Walking through those big glass doors of About Faces was a lot harder than I imagined it would be. I was hit with the familiar scent of shampoos and conditioners. I saw the pretty girls walking in in front of me with their long thick wavy hair, their new color and highlights, their perms...I just kept walking towards the front desk and pulled my black cap tighter down my forehead.

"Can I help you?" the girl dressed in black behind the front desk asked.

"Yes, actually. I have an appointment with Tiki today at 5:30 but I wanted to take a look at some of the books first."

"Of course, just follow me..."

Just as I walked past the front desk with the girl, Tiki came from around the corner.

"HEYYY!! Aren't you a bit early?" she asked, all smiles.

"Yeah, I figured I would come and take a look at some books to get an idea for what I want."

"Oh yeah? Do you have an idea of how you want it to look?"

I looked at her enthusiastic face and tried to choke back the tears as I shook my head. Wow, I didn't think talking about it with her was going to be this difficult.

"I don't have a clue, Tiki. I can't even begin to think of possibilities right now. I keep looking at it and see nothing but a hopeless ugly look," I said, pulling my cap off with an exasperated sigh.

She like everyone else only saw the first two.

"It doesn't look so bad..." I pulled aside my hair to part it all the way over to reveal the larger bald spot, "Oh," she continued, "you grew more spots. I don't know what this could be. This is truly puzzling me that it happened so sudden to you," she commented like a mother would.

She guided me over to her chair and offered me some short hair style books that she had. As I sat in her chair, she started to play around with my hair, trying to visualize the possibilities. That's when the tears came.

I couldn't stop them. I felt the tears building up, and saw the rims of my eyes turning red.

"Oh, please don't cry, babe. You'll make me cry."

And that's just what I did. We were both just sitting there crying as I explained to her how difficult this was. She told me she couldn't even imagine.

But then something magical happens. Do you ever feel like sometimes you're in the right place at the right time?

That's how I felt at that exact moment. We sat there in high hairdresser chairs, facing each other, teary eyed - and then Tiki said the most empowering things.


"You know, Em...I think that you should just say fuck it and stop wearing the hats. I know that you still have a while to go yet until you feel comfortable with everything. But once you do, I challenge you to remove the hat and just wear it with pride. Accept it, own it, embrace it full throttle. I am a firm believer that thoughts and feelings and physical things connect at some point. That once you set your foot down and decide not to allow this to rule your life, that hair is going to grow back faster than ever. Fuck what people think. You've already let this consume you. It rules your life now...you think about it constantly. This is a sign for you to take the time and really dig deep into yourself to find you...to be comfortable with yourself. To look in the mirror and not just see the hair - but see that inner beauty that everyone else sees. To see all of the inner qualities that make you such a gorgeous person. Finally, you'll be able to take off that hat and relieve the burden off of your shoulders and put it on other people's. Let them stare if they want to stare. Let them say "eww" as they walk by. If they have a problem with it, that's okay, because you know you won't. You'll be perfectly fine with how you are. Why should you continue to wear hats to help other people feel comfortable? Let them take some of the burden from you...you are a very powerful person. And with great power comes great responsibility. This is your legacy, your thing to leave behind. That no matter what came your way, you were you. You were strong."


At this point, I had stopped crying. I felt so empowered by her words. I don't think I will ever be able to thank her enough. As I left to go back to work, I placed the cap back on my head, but with a new resilence. Knowing that one day, as I mend inner self slowly and gradually day by day, I will take this hat off, and I will proudly accept myself for everything that I am. I did with the Cerebral Palsy. I did with the limp. I learned to be myself despite what other people said or how they treated me. And this is nothing different.


I couldn't wait to get off work to go down and get the haircut started. Tiki had said that my ponytail was long enough to send off to Locks of Love. I made the decision to have my hair donated there. I hope that my hair can help to provide a wig for a cancer patient. Someone who really needs that wig and must be going through an extremely overwhelming amount of pain. Someone I look up to with so much respect and awe.


This is what I walked away with (hopefully it'll go to a good home):

As for me, I can't tell you how liberating it felt to cut my hair off. Tiki stood to the side with her scissors and stared at me in the mirror with a smile on her face.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"I'm ready," I said. I was more ready than I ever thought I'd be and I think she did a fantastic job. You can't see any of the bald spots!

Coming to you LIVE, from the world of The Brave...

There has been a lot of stuff going on in the past few days. (However many it has been since my last post. Yes, I have been that busy that I don't even know.)


Let's start with the good news first:



On Monday, I received a call from Ray Noppinger from DORS. You might all remember him from my previous post.

Ray (Mr. Noppinger, after you hear this story, you'll call him Ray, too. Not worth the time spent in saying his formal name.) said that the Driving Workforce and Technology Center had finally called him back sometime last week and he had forgotten to call me when they did.

I waited silently on the phone for him to continue and he took the cue.

"So I spoke with John and he said that you don't need to go through another evaluation. They are going to be able to use the one that you got from Good Samaritan. Now, however, you need to have at least 10 hours of in driving instruction, which is what we talked about the last time you were here. Now, you see, there is that issue of the waiting list - which I told you about last time you were here, too, as I am sure you remember. It is going to be a 6-8 week wait, at most. I am not even sure if I could even tell you if you're on that list or not..."

I stopped him because he kept stuttering silently and repeating himself, "And they will be the ones giving me the driving lessons, then? What is the next step for me to do? I can't handle waiting any longer for this to go through."

"Oh, well I don't know, I just don't know about all that. Actually..." he paused and moved himself from the phone for a second, as if to be sifting through massive piles of paper. I could remember the overwhelming stacks of memos, and letters, and forms all over his desk, so overwhelming that it took him ten minutes to find the forms I needed to fill out while I was in his office.

"Here, you know what I think you should do. I think you should call this woman and find out what is going on over there. I think you should shake things up a bit," he said, as if he came up with the most brilliant idea ever: Hey!! What am I doing working and actually trying to earn a living as an advocate for people when YOU could be doing it for yourself and I could still get paid through the State?

"Me? Are you sure that's okay?" I asked, not knowing whether or not I would even be allowed to contact this Workforce and Technology place.

"Sure, sure here, here's the number."

So I did his job for him. I called over to the Workforce and Technology Center and spoke with the lady at the reception desk.

"Oh yes dear! You're the girl that Ray has been talking about - we called him last week to let him know that you would need the 10 hours of driving practice, but that we still needed a changed authorization form from him. He has never gotten it to us yet," she said. She seemed nice enough, and so I just went on my rant.

I told her how long I'd been waiting for this, how I'd been told that I wouldn't be able to get the driving lessons right away, about that weird cheap-skating woman that I went through the first time. I told her everything.

"Okay, hon, well hold on one second. We were waiting for Ray to send that authorization form but he hasn't, so let me put you on hold for just a second."

That second turned into 15 minutes, and I was at work and sort of getting impatient (feeling that my boss would walk by and write me up for being on the phone but at this point I was not going to hang up this phone).

She finally came back to the phone and said, "Well I just spoke with the driving instructor, and we are not going to require that form. So let's start scheduling, shall we? We don't want you to lose your job."

Okay, so I had told her that if I didn't get some sort of form of transportation that I would lose my job. Sounds a bit dramatic, I know but seriously, I am not joking. If you met my boss, and saw how she treats people and their problems, you would understand. She has no understanding for any issues that come up into my life - mostly because she can't believe that one person who is younger than her (she is 35 or something like that) could be experiencing other life experiences that she hasn't yet. She has that age-is-god complex, where she thinks she is better than me because she is older.

But that is for another post - what is fucking awesome is that I SKIPPED THE LIST!!! They told me that I wouldn't have to wait the time because I already had a job and that I was a higher risk because I had more to lose without transportation.

Should have mentioned that I would lose my sanity if I didn't have transportation soon...although I feel like I have already lost that.

I am so excited. I couldn't believe it while I was on the phone with her. She started rolling off dates and times, and saying that she was placing my name in their scheduling book. Can you believe that??!

By the end of October, I will have that letter that says I have gone through the 10 hours of training with the left foot accelerator. And that letter will then go to the MVA for them to process, and then I will be able to get that restriction taken off... that way I can start to get those 60 hours with my friends and family, rather than some driving instructor.

And the best part about all this? That I don't have to pay! (at least that's what they told me... so let's keep our fingers crossed)

Bad news? I have five more spots on my scalp. It's getting to the point where not even pulling it into a ponytail is helping disguise it. I am almost to the point where I am so frustrated that I have stopped caring. I don't wear make-up anymore, or try to take the time to take care of myself like I used to in the morning. My routine is to wake up, take a shower, clean up all the fallen hair, pull what remains into a ponytail and grab a hat and throw it on my head.

I have made a plan and placed an appointment to go get my hair cut next week on Wednesday @ 5:30 pm. It's at About Faces in my building. I love it there. Before all this started, I would go there to get my hair cut and I felt like Tiki (my hairdresser) really knew what I wanted. I saw her a couple weeks ago when this all first started, and I was sitting downstairs waiting for my ride to get there, right before we went to Shorty's and I had a hat on.

She came up and gave me a hug. Asked me where I had been and what I had been up to. And then she saw. She saw and she then lowered her gaze from my hairline to my eyes and she gave me a big hug.

"Oh, hon, don't worry about it. You're still beautiful and there are things that can be done. There are things out there - wigs, and a haircut can change it all."

Alright Tiki, I am taking up your offer. I am going to cut my hair short for the first time since my sophomore year of high school. We'll see how it goes. I am really sort of excited because it's something to look forward to and it's something new, and I actually will be able to apply the steroid cream on my scalp bald spots a lot better with short hair than with the long hair that always gets in the way.

Well off I go to bed, everyone. Tomorrow is Friday so I hope everyone is getting ready for the weekend!

Aiming to brave that Arirang...

I wrote a post on the forum last night after I wrote my blog. I just had to get it out, had to share my story, had to tell them that I felt just as damn frightened as all of them, and that my fear was fresh and the wound was still bleeding.

It actually was truly relaxing, and therapeutic. I don't know why I keep surprising myself every time I write and find a therapeutic calmness about it - this used to be the way that I got myself through the dark nights before. Just me, a pen and my journal. Didn't even have to be just us either, I'd crouch in a soft couch at a lame house party, a beer in hand or I'd slip into the depths of the study halls at the library and nestle my face into the blank pages of my journals that begged to hear about all my tears and all my struggles.

But regardless, it was a lot more helpful than I thought it'd be. And the people of the group actually responded. One of the women said that I was wise beyond my years, especially for being diagnosed with AA pretty young. They totally understood how I felt, and what I was going through. The denial, the separation anxiety from each and every strand of hair. It's agonizing...they know, they watched every strand of their hair fall out, too. Over the couch, onto the carpet, all over my pillow in the morning, at the bottom of my feet in the shower stall, all across the bathroom. It's like watching your dirty secrets follow you around your house, devastating you at every corner. Letting you know that there is no escape, there is only a time of recognition and submission.

They told me that over the mountain, there is hope. Over the angry slopes - there is a peace, there is a calmness that slips over you in the night - an ability to let your hair slip away, and your ability and strength to say goodbye, and never look back. So I guess that's where I am headed. Over those mountains in the distance...do you see them as clear as I do? Do they glare at you, too?

Your mountain may not be AA, it could be something else. It could be as small as that term paper that is due the first day of school in about two weeks, or it could be simple as that ugly truth that is hanging at the tip of your tongue that you have to say, or it could be as big as deciding what next road you need (want, desire, crave, depend on) to take when you hit that fork ---

Regardless, we're all on that journey. And I know that we're on it together. I am lucky to have such great friends who have encouraged and inspired me to keep writing, to keep on trekking - the journey is hardly over yet, in fact, I have yet to really get started.

So thank you so much from the bottom of my heart for your kind words and your support. I know that someday I will get to that point where I can be the strongest that I can be, and be accepting of it all. I just know that right now it's all so fresh. It just happened less than a month ago - and I am still in this state of bewilderment not knowing really if it has all sunk in yet. I know that one day in the next few months, I will probably be on the DC metro, or in the car with my friends and just break down to the realization of it all. Because that's when the reality hits me the most - when I am not really dwelling on it. But that day will come, and I know that when it does, even though I may or may not be ready for it, it will be ready for me.

I can't imagine yet what life will be like completely bald - it's still such an astonishing thing that I have all these bald spots rearing their shininess in my face every morning.

My boss told me today that her "patience is wearing thin" because yesterday I was having side effects from the steroids (it's only been a week and I suspected that I might get headaches or something of the like, because that's what the doctor assured me might occur) and had to leave work an hour early. It's almost like people like her believe that I woke up one day and thought that I would just make my hair fall out for no reason at all. She kept telling me when it first started that it really wasn't that bad, and that I should just get over it because it's just hair - how easy is it for her to say that when she has a full head of hair on her head? What if it were her? She doesn't come home with me every night - she doesn't stare into the mirror after I take a shower and see the clumps of hair that are falling all over my shoulders. She doesn't hear my heart crumbling every time I find another bald spot.

I am so glad that you guys have been so supportive and such a big help -you just don't even know. I know that I have struggled through a lot of things in my life, and this is just one more thing to add to the list. It's just the initial shock that is always the killer.

But there are still those mountains to climb. There are still those steeps slopes to conquer. I'm still on my way to braving this Arirang.