Baby Steps

Saturday did not turn out how I had expected. It ended up that very early in the morning I realized that I had misplaced the bag that held my Anthralin and now had to retrace my steps. The bag had to be somewhere between my work on Friday, the quick stop at my apartment and then finally, my parents' house.

Once the first half of the morning was spent running a rampage through my parents' house with no success, I realized it had to either be my place or at work. I was praying for it to be at my place.

So I had my father drive me over, and I ran up the steps, trying to focus, trying to find that bag. Nope, no bag. But I grabbed another outfit to wear (since I was wearing sweats and I was headed to a study group later on at 1 pm @ Barnes and Nobles) and headed out the door.

That left the last place: my office. I've never been there on a Saturday - much less a Saturday morning. It's quite boring - and walking into the building left a weird feeling. There was so much silence, such a sense of emptiness that I felt - as if during the week the building's walls had been so pregnant with the full bustle of workers, diners at Della Rose's and customers perusing the spa on the 3rd floor and suddenly, once 5 pm Friday evening hit, the building was quickly emptied. Just like that. It felt like a foreign country - my sneaker steps echoing against the marble - and I suddenly noticed that three quarters of the main lobby were still unleased.

Well, I found my medicine. Thank God the security guard at the desk recognized me. I had taken my work badge just in case there might be trouble, but I also knew that it probably wouldn't do me any good anyway since all employee badges are programmed with timed access. (I had found this out one morning when my ride had to drop me off at 6 AM and I was unable to get into my office. I had a nice time sitting propped up against the wall until 7 AM rolled around.)

The security guard said that it was his day off, but he had been asked to come in anyway. I told him I just needed to grab my medicine, and that I thought I had left it in one of the drawers of my cubicle. I'm glad he went with me though - I tried to scan my badge at the door first, and it wouldn't let me in.

Medicine in hand, I ran out to the car, and headed back to my parents' house to take a shower and at least get ready for the study group. I desperately need this study group if I even want to stay afloat in this class.

The study group was set up to be at 1 pm. By 2 pm, I came to the conclusion that it had to have been cancelled and I had just not gotten the memo. When I tried to call my other classmate (the girl who put the study group together) her phone had been turned off. Awesome. I called the other classmate and he called me back to let me know that work had called him in at the last minute and he needed the extra money. I understand that.

I tried to study as much as I could by myself, but technically, the whole point of having a study group is so that you can feed off of each other's notes, and other people's knowledge on the concepts that you don't understand. When there are no other persons that kind of defeats the purpose.

I went searching through the self-help, self-teaching books in the science section and grabbed a copy of Chemistry for Dummies. It helped to a point - but at that point, my stomach was growling, and I had lost all interest and focus on trying to finish the homework that was due on Monday. Besides, I was finding it much more exciting to eavesdrop on the conversation occurring two tables over.

There was a woman dressed in what looked like flowery purple drapes. They looked satin from where I sat, but at any rate, they at least appeared soft. She had dark brown hair, below the shoulder, and had a pair of designer sunglasses on her head. Beneath the table, her matching purple toenails were exposed, and she was lightly sipping on her coffee while flipping through a notebook that she had laid out before her.

Suddenly, it seemed like out of nowhere, a couple appears in front of her and they are shaking hands and smiling cordially - but nervously. A first meet, no doubt.

The couple sits down at the woman's table and she begins speaking matter-of-factly. I think that's what intrigued me was her ability to speak with almost no pause, with so much factual tone - it was friendly but professional.

"I know you saw me from my website. You were the ones who emailed me. And I assume that you've had a chance to view the site and see all of the services that I offer. Were you able to check out the photo gallery? Those pictures have been from the past few years of my experience and should give you an idea as to what to expect from me," she said, while flipping more pages of that notebook.

The couple was just nodding their heads, silently. The woman was still gripping her purse on her shoulder - a sign of nervousness for most people.

As the conversation let on, it became apparent that this woman (the one with the purple flowery drape outfit) was a wedding planner and at the end of the conversation, the couple had both agreed that they would be employing her to help plan their wedding.

That was my cue to go. No other interesting things for me there to help distract away from the awful Chemistry homework that I had to do. I quickly packed up my things, placed the empty plate on top of the trash can (the previous home of a delicious turkey and 3-cheese melt on basil infused panini bread) and decided on taking a trip to the mall.

The mall is the same as I leave it - no matter how long I go without perusing its hallways. Which has been a long time. Possibly close to 7 months or so. I bought a few things, but mostly looked. Student loans and a pending auto loan is keeping me from spending too much nowadays.

I had originally planned on staying in all weekend long - but I had gotten a text message later on in the day from my friend Sal. He was headed to Trust (which is now Stadio). Usually, he tells me where he's going and I say 'cool' and stay home regardless.

Something about last night beckoned me out. So I put my medication on for two hours, walked around the apartment trying to clean up, and then took my shower to get ready.

I called the cab at around 9:30 pm. It didn't arrive until 10:15 pm.

The cabbies that I got were truly hilarious. As I climbed into the back, I noticed that there were two men sitting in the front. I was curious, but acted like nothing was out of place.

"200 East Redwood, please."

"Eh?" asked the driver loudly.

"The girl said 200 Redwood...East, right hon?" asked the other man as he turned slightly in his seat to face me.

"Yes, East. That's right." I now knew why there were two. One was the driver and the other was the driver's ears.

It took us forever to get down there. I didn't get to Redwood Street until close to 11 pm since Ears (my name for the second man) told the driver to take a wrong turn without listening to my protests. Finally, they were so exasperated by themselves that they suggested that I get out of the cab a block and a half from the 200 block of Redwood. I agreed, mainly because I didn't want to have a $50 cab fee.

I crawled out of the cab, and made sure to grab all of my things. As I closed the cab door, the driver leaned across Ears and rolled down the window.

"Hey, besides, what is a pretty young girl like you doing out here so late without your boyfriend?"

"No boyfriend. And I'm just trying to have fun and live my life," I said, "Thanks for the ride!"

"Anytime, hon."

The walk was short, but a walk nonetheless. As I neared the valets I pushed past the metal gates and up the front steps.

"This is Trust, right?" I asked for good measure since it had been more than a few years since the last time I'd been there.

"Uh - yeah, Trust - it's not that anymore. Stadio," said the bouncer with his hand outstretched for my ID.

That night was all about baby steps. I was all by myself, had gone with no one I knew - only with the hopes of running into Sal. And just my luck that it was lingerie night - so there were plenty of women with long hair and hoochie outfits to taunt me.

It was tough the first few minutes. I was conscious that I had my hat on, and that I didn't look like any of them. But then I snapped myself out of it - this wasn't the me a few years ago. This wasn't the vibrant girl that went to all the clubs just 5 years ago. Where did that girl go?

I marched up to the bar and flashed a smile. Grabbed my screwdriver, and headed over to the dancefloor.

I decided to just dance. Dance and have fun. That's just what I did. Baby steps, right?

Sal showed up later and kept telling me how I shouldn't be worried about how I looked because I was always going to be fabulous.

Overall, a fun night. Tiring though. I collapsed as soon as I got into the backseat of Sal's car.

Alright, time for me to sleep. Chemistry is kicking my ass. Chemical nomenclature needs to get bent.

-=edit=-
Might I mention to my happiness that despite my self-consciousness of holding the edge of my hat all night to keep it from falling out that I was hit on five times by five separate men (all pretty decent looking, too.) I know that sounds shallow, but in a very small way it helps with the baby steps. I figure if random strangers don't notice anything unordinary, then I shouldn't be so worried about it either.

Funny how life works backwards...

In the past week since I have started this Anthralin ("Dritho-scalp") treatment, I have begun to see a whole new me. Is it because I now have peach fuzz growing in patches slowly all over my scalp where it was bald before? Possibly.


It's always good to see something good happening. I remember when I noticed the first patch of peach fuzz two days ago, I thought it was dirt (because the anthralin tends to color the scalp brown) but then after washing my hair twice (and losing a ton more hair in the process) I realized that it wasn't dirt - it was the color of peach fuzz - my old black hair, although baby hair fine, growing back. I couldn't believe it. I was siked.


I still am siked. I can't see the back, but from what friends and family members tell me, they can see some growth in the back, too.


But nothing comes without a cost. I have been losing more hair, too. I have almost become completely bald - I mean I still have pieces of my old hair clinging to stay on - but a lot of my scalp is exposed now. It's impossible for me to get away without wearing a hat like I had done before.


And yet, it's funny how life turns things backwards.


In the beginning, as I watched my hair fall out, every single piece of it pushed me farther and farther into this introverted state of mind. I wanted to hide out in a corner. I wanted to crawl under a rock and never see the light of day.


But now, maybe it's because I am seeing growth and for the first time faced with something more solid to have belief in, but now - this morning when I woke up and I washed my hair, and I saw the pieces falling every where, I almost felt more empowered.


I feel the urge to be more extroverted. I feel the urge to just not wear the hat - no matter how odd it looks. And I treat my hair situation as if it is normal. Because eventually, if this alopecia continues in my life, my hair situation will be normal for me. So why not start now?


I do have to admit that it's about time to wear a wig. There are only so many days I can pull off wearing a hat and sometimes it gets uncomfortable and confining. I'd rather be able to not wear the hat and just wear the wig although the thought has crossed my mind that essentially, the wig might not be much better. Essentially the wig is just a hat disguised as hair - and I might feel confined in that, too but at least it's worth a try.


I just don't know of any good wig places.

Things that I should do

What I should do: Be worried about reading my Chemistry text for tonight's class because last class I was absolutely useless and didn't pay attention to half of the lecture.

What I'm doing instead: Writing in this blog. I should have read last night but I was actually sleeping since I got that bout of a bad case of diarrhea (yeah, I don't care, I'll tell you... I don't think it's that disgusting - it's just something you get sometimes)

What I should do: Concentrate on this Chemistry Text and even attempt to concentrate on the homework that is due next week

What I'm doing instead: Wondering why we have to play these stupid games - even with people that we love. I thought that it all ends once you find that person that you feel you can talk to about anything - but I've learned that that only goes so far as the other person's receptiveness. If they don't want to receive it - then you're stuck holding the bag. It sucks, because I should be thinking about school, about how I am paying my bills this month (because I forgot whether this week is pay week or not - and I am hoping it is because rent is due!), or about whether or not I should just jump headfirst into buying this car this weekend, and try and worry about setting up for a car insurance quote. But --- I am thinking about how much I miss a certain person, and why do I miss them so much when I just saw them last week? How much despite everything that I keep telling myself, there is a tinge of weakness inside that is making me weary - I want to know things I know I shouldn't want to know, things that aren't my right to know anymore...I gave up the right a long time ago. I want to tell that person how much I miss them, without a weird look in reponse, or even worse: no response at all. I text them this morning, telling them how gorgeous the weather was (which surprisingly, gorgeous weather recently depresses me because I have no means of enjoying it. I am stuck indoors with no ride to anywhere where I could enjoy it, unless I hop on the train to DC and just ride the Metro all day. Which, btw, I have been contemplating and if this week really IS pay week then I think I owe Latoya a visit!) and how much I wish that I could see them this weekend - maybe a picnic? Maybe sitting at a table at Panera Bread for an hour - maybe something. Just something. It's terrible when there is one single person you'd want to spend your time with - the only problem is whether or not they'd want to spend their time with you.

I shouldn't be so glum. I know it's all very melodramatic, but hell, that's what this blog is for. To get all that grit out of my head. To write it all down - and to feel better.

Technically, I did get an invite to the APA Film Festival in DC this weekend. Anyone interested in going? Email me. I am wanting to go but I'd rather go with company than by myself like a ...well, like a dork.

Back to reading that Chem book...

My Near (almost, not really) Brush with Death

This past weekend was the return of Buzz @ Glow. Of course, we all went. By we I mean: J, me, 'Nard, unni, & Gen Gen. Missing in action? Paul & Est unni. Why? The near brush with death.

The weekend before had been my crazy one and not only was it extremely emotional, but it was also Tiesto Live @ Love...outside. I decided against that due to the extreme cold, and opted for the nice, inside, cozy atmosphere with George Acosta @ Ibiza.

But not before driving by Love to say hello to my brother and Est unni. This is where this all began. She gave me hugs and kisses, as usual and then I went on my way to Ibiza.

Skip to this weekend. Est unni and Paul are all ready to go for Return of Buzz. Everyone is. A day before the event, I feel there is something terribly wrong - Paul hasn't called me back. My brother always calls me back. My clairvoyancy is kicking into high gear and I fear... well I fear something bad is happening.

Paul finally calls me later on and says that Est is sick, but it's probably just a cold and they'll see me for Buzz the next night.

Uhh, yeah. In so few short moments, we see Est, we see Paul, and then Est collapses with chills, Paul thinks she's faking, then Est is rushed to the hospital, and the doctors immediately suspect that it's ("dun dun DUN") meningitis.

They run tests on her, and then to be safe, and for good measure, they toss her butt in the ICU. Guess who's laughing now, my brother? He literally felt TERRIBLE for just prior telling her she was faking it (but in my brother's defense, Esther unni has always sorta... dramatized things before for attention. But only in a cutsey way.)

What do our dumbasses do? We still go out. Party. I mean we bought the nearly $30 tickets ahead of time. Why shouldn't we? And it was not just us - we brought other friends.

The place was packed and it was noisy. Exceptionally noisy. So noisy that even though the music was good, J and I kept looking at each other with the same uncomfortable glance because a massive amount of people were all around us - it reminded me of that time in New York with Gen.

So we left ...called to see how Esther unni was, and she had worsened. They hooked her up to IVs and morphine due to the amount of pain. Paul said that the doctors said that we should all be worried about possibly catching it if we had been in contact with her. Oh, great.

We got home really, super late. I was exhausted. Exhausted from worrying about my sister, and exhausted from all those damned people. J & I collapsed on the bed and passed out for several hours.

When I woke up, I had a fever, my throat was raspy and my nose was stuffy. I started freaking out. Big time. J said maybe it was because I was dehydrated, and to keep drinking fluids and to make sure I ate something.

I ate like a fat kid loves cake...and more. And drank Deer Park like it was going out of style. I kept overheating really fast though. So I ended up forcing myself to sleep all day with no covers, and trying to relax, and think happy thoughts like "no meningitis for me, no meningitis here!"

Paul called me late Saturday and asked if I was okay. I told him my symptoms and he said that I shouldn't worry. But if I do think I have it - to go to the doctor or a clinic and get those two day antibiotics or whatever.

So far, I just have a headache today, and a slight stuffy nose. I know, technically I shouldn't be at work if I think I have it - but I am at this point where I really don't think I do. I read on the internet that the best way to catch it would be through transfer of bodily fluids - and Esther unni and I didn't do any of that. Plus, I think that chills is a big thing that comes with it and I haven't had any chills yet.

So this is Monday. Let's hope for a quick and painless week. BTW, this Dritho-scalp has sorta been working...little pieces of hair growth here and there. We'll see though. My fingers are definitely crossed.

PS. Omgosh, Goose. I've gone through "Dying", "Light of the Moon" and "Cartwheels" and I love them all. Every single song. Some I already had - but most I didn't. I have connected on so many deeper levels to every single lyric in each song. Thank you so much.

A little John Mayer does a heart good...

"I believe/that my life's gonna see/the love I give/returned to me." - from Wheel


I'm not going to let anything stop me from being who I am. Once I start questioning why I do the things I do - they would stop being a part of what makes me unique.

I love that I'm a goober. I love that I wear my heart on my sleeve. I love that I am honest, even when it's really tough to be.


I love that life gives me the chance to experience the pain and the hurt in order to become a stronger person... but I also find it crummy.


I'm only human, and that's the best I can do.

Let me start where I feel comfortable.

I have this diamond. It's like this amazing gift that I came upon one day... it was in the disguise of a rock - but that's how all diamonds begin, isn't it? To appear as something mediocre and unusual... only to later find out that it is something precious, amazing, and beyond value.

I keep that diamond with me everywhere because it reminds me of everything good in my life with how beautiful it is to look at. It reminds me of everything complex in my life because of the cut, the prisms that connect, soak in the light and dispurse it in reflecting and refracting rays of colored rainbows. It reminds me of every single portion of my life that I treasure, the good and the bad, because no matter what happens to this diamond - its value will always hold true. Maybe not to an appraiser with his magnifying glasses pressed against his eyes - but if only to the diamond's owner: me.

This diamond that I have has scratches and nicks... but even those scratches and nicks have strong meaning to me. They allow me to keep all those memories to myself, every single scratch and nick on that diamond represents a time that I never want to forget.

And who am I to throw away the most valuable thing I own just because it has a few scratches on it? In the end, it's still a diamond, it's still gorgeous. I would be stupid to throw it away.

Most people do not understand this logic - but that doesn't matter to me. What matters to me is the relationship I have between myself and what I own - whether that be family, friends, my health... my hair. Regardless of what that diamond represents, no, especially of what that diamond represents is the reason why I keep it. The reason why it will always be something I treasure, I love, I give my heart to. And I don't regret that. It's taken me a crapload of drama, a lifetime of craziness happening in just a month - in just a collective amount of four years - to realize this.

Big Chemistry Exam Today

Too bad I can't ask for an exam make-up due to a broken heart and broken self-esteem.

I tried to study all weekend but that was just a joke. Flipping through textbook pages apparently doesn't help you retain any of the information faster or more effectively than actually reading the book.

Or maybe it will. That's what I am hoping for since that's all I was capable of doing all weekend. Flipping pages. Pages of my notes from lecture, pages from my chemistry textbook, pages from my past journals, pages from my current journal. Tons and tons of pages.

That and flipping channels. I have become an Olympic channel-flipper. I don't even have the attention span for a commercial. "Geico could save yo-" Nope, click. Flip. Keep moving.

I guess it's to keep my mind from staying on one particular thing for too long. All things in life can be played like a messed-up game of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. In the end, they all can somehow be linked to the fucked-up things in your life.

Example 1:

Studying at Barnes & Nobles with my classmate. She wants to go to the Towson one. We used to go there and read through the books together. We'd pick up magazines while waiting for our friends to call us and talk to each other about the articles we were reading.

I kept staring at the magazine racks while my classmate and I were sitting at Starbucks.

Example 2:

I am up late last night. I can't sleep. Although I try to keep flipping, I land on the Hair for Men Club commercial. I am watching the testimonials. Fucking men and their societal acceptance of being bald.

Okay, so those were only one degree, technically. But regardless, I can't shut it off. I can't stop thinking about any of it. And I've decided to stop trying to. I've decided the best thing to do is just be sad for once. Just for a little while - nothing extensive. But just admit that I'm sad because sad things happened recently. And I am starting to actually feel better about them today.

At least it's a start.

Tired of being strong...

In the past three days I have had hopes dashed and challenged with a less-than-perfect doctor's visit, my heart broken into two and sunken deep into my stomach for the first time in my life, and realized that no matter what - there's a breaking point in how long you can be strong enough to withstand whatever comes your way.

I'm just so tired. Tired of being so strong, tired of being positive all the time, tired of trying to be the girl that everyone sees as being so happy all the time...and tired of giving every piece of my heart away like a fool.

Life is just funny that way, I guess. Eventually, you get fed up.