"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings."

So of the whopping 5 people who read this blog, 3 of them know how addicted I am to reading.  I'm just as passionate about writing, but lately- nothing. The Muses have not thrown me even one small nugget of linguistical (Yes, I made that adjective up) nourishment.  I'm so frustrated because I really wanted to be working on something publishable this year and I have NADA.

Back to the reading.  One of my best friends is addicted to reading as I am.  She is an enabler of my addiction to books and I devour just about everything she puts on her Kindle.  I finished one book (Sad Desk Salad) and started another (The Fault in Our Stars) yesterday.

Well holy genius batman.  I am in love with this book*.  John Green is exactly the kind of writer I always wanted to be, with all his lyrical bantering between characters and perfectly placed pieces of pop culture and literary references.  Just. So. Good.

This book is the kind of book that makes you want to fall in love despite the unbearable sadness of the plot (teenagers with cancer).  It's the kind of story that makes you question everything you think you know and for someone who lives with an incurable, chronic illness this hits especially close to home.

Case in point- My own body attacked itself.  So the WG is my own body's fault, it is a part of me, I'm a part of it.  So does that mean the I am WG?  Or that WG is me? This is something I continue to struggle with 4 years post diagnosis.  I don't want to be defined by something I don't have any control over, but the fact of the matter is that WG changed my life and rocked me to the core.  I've clearly had to adapt and change over the past few years to deal with everything living with vasculitis has brought to me.  Some days I want to hide the fact that I'm "sick".  I don't want to talk about it, deal with it, think about it.  Other days I am proud of the fact that I've dealt with this for so long, mostly on my own, and I want to raise awareness and educate as many people as possible about this dastardly disease.

Lately I've been torn about hiding it, permanently.  This Rituxan has been a game changer, I haven't felt this good in a long, long time.  There are stretches of hours where I don't even remember that I'm "sick".  I especially want to hide it when it comes to the (lack of a) relationship front.  I feel compelled to share this part of my life because it really has made me who I am today.  But everyone runs.  No guy wants to deal with this- the fact that this could be a forever problem, the fact that I might not be able to have babies, the fact that if I flare I go back on prednisone and it wreaks havoc with my mind and my heart and my weight.  Part of me says "Well, why should they deal with this nonsense?"

And then the other part of me says "Well if no one should have to deal with it, it is a good thing you are a teacher because you won't ever have babies of your own or a boyfriend or a husband".

So there's that.  I haven't finished The Fault in our Stars yet, so I don't know how the story will turn out.  I did get to a big plot twist this morning and I'm not emotionally ready to finish the book.

I'll leave you with a quote that hit particularly hard this morning.

"I'm in love with you," he said quietly.
"Augustus," I said.
"I am," he said. He was staring at me, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I'm in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we'll ever have and I am in love with you."

        ~ The Fault in Our Stars by John Green ~








*NB: Books are so much better to fall in love with than humans.  They don't get vasculitis, or cancer, or end up in relationships with people who don't deserve them.

What does it mean to have strength?

A friend of mine said to me last night “Wish I had your strength”.  I’m sitting here, on a Sunday night of a long weekend with nothing to do except watch old episodes of Parenthood and I find myself thinking, how strong am I?  Does battling a chronic, rare, incurable disease make me some kind of superwoman? 

I never thought it did.  After I got sick I did what I had to do.  There was never really another option.  Fight through it, get better, go back to normal.  Don’t get me wrong.  There were days when I wanted nothing more to give up.  I distinctly remember the first few days I had to take the Cytoxan, and heaving up everything in my stomach.  After that, it was just bile and sadness.  It always happened when I was home alone, so there was never someone to hold back my hair or wipe my head or pass me a washcloth.  I watched my hair fall out, I watched my face change because of the prednisone... but I did it on my own because I didn’t know any other way. 

So here I am watching the middle of season 4 of Parenthood, and (spoiler alert, sorry) Kristina is pale, profusely sweating, vomiting and lying on the bathroom floor because the chemotherapy she takes to get rid of her breast cancer is dissolving her from the inside out.  That only lasted two days for me, and it was nowhere near what was depicted on this television show that makes me cry every time I watch it.  Towards the end of the episode she and her husband are in bed, and they are so clearly supportive of each other and so devoted to each other that my heart aches… because I wish I had that when I first got sick.  I wish there had been someone to help me through it. I wish there was someone now who was willing to take the time to understand my journey and to stick with me for the rest of it.

My four year diagnosis anniversary is coming up.  I’ve passed the four year “remembrances” of the first ear ache and the fever that sort of set me spiraling downward.  Two weeks ago, after my third round of Rituxan I came to a rather sudden realization.  I felt so good after that infusion that I felt normal.  That elusive normal that I never thought I’d get to again.  That realization came in stark contrast to the previous week’s infusion when I cried and felt my heart break a hundred times.  Why?  Because I was alone.  Everyone else at the infusion center had someone with them, except for me.  There was no one to talk to, to sit with… I was, yet again, alone.  Not that it was anyone’s fault, after all, how could I expect someone to sit with me for 8 hours on a Friday?

Would it have been fair for me to ask someone to come with me?  Part of me says no, because it would be intruding on someone else’s life, and their time, and their commitments.  But I suppose it also goes to show that there isn’t anyone in my life who would have felt like it wasn’t an intrusion on their time or their commitments.  

Is that what makes me strong?  Not being selfish?  If that’s the measure of strength, then there are people stronger than I am.  Take my friend for instance- busting his butt to make life easier for someone who is sort of just piling the stress onto his life.  Yet he works through the exhaustion and the stress and what I can only imagine to be anger and sadness because he isn’t selfish.  

Is being afraid to ask for support (or is it that I’m incapable? I’m not sure) what makes me strong?

Is being single what makes me strong?

I’ve spent four years being strong and not once has anyone really let me break down over everything I’ve gone through.  Part of that is my own fault, I don’t know how to open up because past experiences have shown me that opening up made me someone who complained all the time.  But shouldn’t my friends know enough to sit me down and make me talk about it?  Shouldn’t my family know that I need a shoulder to cry on?  I don’t know.  The social stigma of crying is that it is a weakness.  So I cry alone, usually at night.  Sometimes at lunch, when I am alone in my classroom. 

But my god, I am tired.  I am tired of being strong and I’m tired of crying alone.  

Sleep? Ha.

I. AM. SO. TIRED.

Coffee is not even helping anymore. I am just too stressed for my own good!


The end.

EMPLOYMENT!

I HAVE A JOB AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!

Unfortunately for someone else their mistake is my boon.  I'm teaching 5th grade again, which is a relief because I can use a lot of what I did last year (including my Zoo unit and Titanic unit!!)

However... there is a lot to learn in a very short amount of time.  I have some pretty terrific colleagues and I'm excited to work with them.  My class is very different this year too- all on level, compared to only having 10 on level last year.

I'm working on an owl theme (duh, I only have an entire pinterest board dedicated to education and owls), and I spent a ridiculous amount of money today between amazon, ebay, oriental trading and carson and dellosa.  I still need a few more things... namely brown butcher paper, a color ink cartridge, and more laminating pockets. Oh, and painter's tape, white posterboard, markers, snacks/bribes, silver paint, to fix my classroom printer, make a lot of photo copies, set up my routines and binders and everything and oh my god I'm so excited I'm rambling and have lost all command of English grammar with this incredibly long run on sentence that is still going!

I started doing my Literacy curriculum map last night and wow. So much work. I understand now why I struggled so much last year- I wasn't planning long term. I was planning week to week instead of unit to unit.  I'll get there eventually.

BACK TO PLANNING! AND PINTERESTING! AND SPENDING MONEY! AND BEING HAPPY AND EXCITED!

(Good thing I have the next two days off... L'Shana Tova... definitely going to be a sweet new year for me!)

Adventures in Pinning!

I have exciting news! After many attempts for success in my Pinterest life, I am finally victorious! This happens rarely (aka, NEVER), so I am over the proverbial moon (even though it is only 6:24 pm).

Prior to today I had two Pinterest wins and several (dozens) of fails. My first win was sugar scrub, which I happened to use this afternoon. (Oh. You know what this means. It isn't just sugar scrub. It is magical Pinterest success sugar scrub!!! Ahem). The second was a creamy garlic pasta recipe. Yumm.

The fails have included more DIY beauty treatments than I care to admit. One was a foot soak to get rid of beachy feet. One was a face mask to clear my pores. Another was a recipe for cheesy zucchini rice (three of my favorite things, how wrong could it be? VERY. But that's another story for another time). I tried to make a healthy shake once. I threw it out after two sips.

Anyway, today I decided to tackle a food recipe.

Okay. I lied. I have a few more wins than I remembered: birthday swirly cupcakes, homemade refrigerator pickles, jello shots. I've only discovered this since I flipped through my pins to find the link for today's adventure in pinning.

Now I don't have a job this year, unfortunately. I didn't have enough seniority to keep my job (two other teachers got excessed too).  So I'm back to volunteering/subbing.  The days when I volunteer I can go into school in jeans and a nice top with my hair pulled back and no makeup on.  I'm basically just tech support the first few days anyway, and that requires crawling under tables that are too heavy to move.  I'm not getting dressed up to do that.

This also means that I don't have to get up at 5:30 am. I can get up at 6:15 instead. I can get up at 6:30 if I don't have to make breakfast. Enter the adventure.  A while ago I pinned this link to my Pinterest Recipe board.  Seemed easy enough. I grabbed my post-its, made my shopping list and went to the store. I didn't buy anything on sale because nothing I needed was on sale, but if you are going to attempt this, definitely get your ingredients at a reasonable price.

I forgot to take a picture of all my ingredients (so shoot me, I'm new at this recipe-progress-blogging thing), so I'll make a list of them instead!

To make 20 breakfast burritos:

• 20 Tortillas (I used Mission brand, soft taco, medium size)
• 8 extra large eggs
• 8 oz. egg whites (to stretch the eggs without the added cholesterol)
• 8 oz. shredded cheese (whatever kind you like. You can also buy a block and shred it yourself)
• 1 frozen package of pork sausage (or you could make ham or bacon, your choice)
• 1 pound shredded potatoes

First I defrosted the sausage and tossed it into the biggest non-stick fry pan I have.

Brown it up. Empty the fry pan over a paper towel to get rid of some of the excess fat.

Now I know I said you needed shredded potatoes. But the store didn't have any, they had these pseudo-Latkes. Found them in the frozen aisle. I popped them into the fry pan still frozen.  I didn't want to cook them all the way through, just enough to chop them up. I used 9 out of the 10 in the pack (I saved one to eat for dinner!!)

Roughly chop.  No need for perfection here.

Chopped. I dumped them back into the container they came in as I was chopping because I ran out of space very quickly on my cutting board.

Transfer the chopped potatoes to your fry pan.  I added a smidge of oil oil and a tablespoon of butter to get things going. Optional, of course.

While the potatoes were browning up and cooking through, I scrambled my eggs.  Make the eggs however you like them. I mixed egg whites with regular eggs, added about 3/4 cup of milk (I don't measure, ever. Just eyeball it), salt and lots of pepper. Mix it up.

I poured HALF of the egg mixture into the frying pan and cooked the eggs. Just as they were about finished I added HALF of the potatoes and HALF of the sausage.

HALF. This part is important because:
    a) It won't all fit in your fry pan unless you have one that is about 36 inches in diameter
    b) It will make assembly easier.

Mmmm. Good enough to eat right out of the pan (which, of course, I did. I had to make sure it wasn't poisonous).

Lay out your tortillas on a nice clean counter space.  I divided the contents of the fry pan in half and did 5 burritos at a time.  Sprinkle your cheese on top. Fold and roll and fold and roll your burrito. This was the hardest part for me, since apparently I can't fold a burrito to save my life.

Wrap well in saran wrap.  Transfer to freezer safe ziplock bags. Write the date on the ziplock bag (and what's in the burritos) so you don't get confuzzled.

TADA!!!!!!! SUCCESS!!!

(To reheat: Unwrap from the plastic [plastic in the microwave is bad], wrap in a damp paper towel, microwave for 30-45 seconds, unwrap, throw out paper towel, microwave another 30-45 seconds until hot).

BON APPETIT!

Not the Princess I want to be?

NB: This is probably far too personal to keep on this blog, but if I don't get it out I will absolutely explode. I'm sure I'll delete this somewhere down the line.

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I have a lot to get off my chest and I don't know who I can talk to about it because I feel like I'm complaining.  Wonder who gave me that idea...

No. I'm not going there. I'm supposed to be learning to forgive and forget.

Sometimes I look at where I am in my life and I'm thrilled. I'm alive, for starters.  I have a degree, I have some job experience.  I have some wonderful friends.  And other days I look in the mirror and I'm incredibly disappointed.  I'm not going to lie. I feel horribly alone most of the time. 

I constantly compare myself to other girls, and I'm jealous of what I see these girls having that I don't have but want.  I try to puff up my self esteem and ruffle my own feathers, but I have a really hard time with this.  Case and point- I've never been in a legitimate relationship. 

What I had in college was never what I wanted it to be, for whatever reason.  I don't think I will ever know the reasons that I was never able to call the guy in question my boyfriend.  But it hurts. I'm 24 years old and I've never had a real boyfriend.  I trusted this person with my heart, and like most hearts, it was broken.  I put most of the pieces back together, but the glue doesn't always hold. 

I'm not trying to be the debbie downer- but I never think I'm good enough, smart enough, beautiful enough, thin enough, outgoing enough, funny enough. My friends tell me otherwise, but I don't believe it. 

It seems that every time I log on to facebook someone else is a) getting engaged b) getting married c) having a baby d) finding their dream job.  I'm jealous.  I see pictures of one person in particular, with a girl whom I barely know... she captions pictures "my best friend"... but at the bar the other night, it was all she could to do keep her real feelings "he's annoying" "I just want him here so he brings his cousin" from him.  But the thing is, I don't think those things about this boy.  Granted I know next to nothing about him. But I do know that he is smart. And attractive. Why does he give this girl so much attention when she doesn't even really like him, but someone like me, who honestly thinks the best of everyone- is only good for a late night text?

Apparently that is all I'm good for because usually the texts I get from the guys I know aren't the "let's take a stroll on the beach" type of texts.  I am a good girl. I don't drink excessively, though I will let my hair down once in a while.  I don't do drugs, I don't smoke.  I study hard and I get good grades.  I'm exactly the kind of girl you bring home to the parents.  I can be witty and charming once I get to know you. If you open yourself up to me, I'll open myself up to you. I've been through a lot in my life and I'm not interested in waiting any more for what I perceive to be the good things life has to offer. I want to be in love. I want someone who I'm excited to tell good things and bad things to. Someone to cook for, to hang out on the couch in sweats with a beer to watch a football game with, someone to go to family parties with so my family stops pestering me... someone to come home to. 

So does that mean I'm not going to get married until I'm 50? Because that is certainly what it feels like.

I'm distinctly aware of my shyness.  Painfully so.  I don't know how to meet guys, I'm never the first one to text, I don't put myself out there. I'm afraid of rejection because I go for the guys I already know. I'm afraid that I'll be embarrassed by someone who I will potentially have to interact with at some point in the future.

So I'm hurting, and I'm alone. And I cry when I watch Say Yes to the Dress, or when my friends call me to tell me they are engaged or when they ask me to be a part of their wedding. I cry. A lot. 

Prince Charming, where are you?

Slacking...

Not even a week into my self-directed challenge and I'm falling behind.  Day 6's question is "what is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?" and I have NO CLUE what I want to write about. So I may postpone that entry and move to Day 7. Except Day 7 asks about my dream job and I don't know what to write for that EITHER. 

So for the sake of my sanity (yes, contrary to popular belief I still have some of it) and for my whole two readers (Hi D! and J!) I'll write on the train tomorrow as I head to the ENT (boo hiss) and I'll type up a spectacular entry.

Since my appointment is at the crack of dawn in the city I'm calling it a night.  Sleep tight darlings.