Yeah, so, so, so...

I was "sick" Friday, felt awful, icky, and wanted to just die. Yeah, so, I went a a professor who gave me unmarked pills, calling them "IB Profin," of which I immediately blessed her dear soul and chugged them both down. 45 minutes later, I felt worse. I had a huge pasty smile on my lips, but my knees were shaking. Then my feet. Then my thighs. Then my torso. And huge red flames were shooting up my white arms. And I broke out in hives. And then I couldn't walk very well. And my boss drove me home, my brother rushed over to take care of me, I threw up, Rachel came to get me, she took me home, watched over me as I completely zonked out on her couch for hours. And then, I woke up, weak, but jolly fine!!! Bugger reaction to medication, I'm afraid.

So, I wrote this tonight in an email to a dear friend, and I decided to paste parts of it here.


You know me decently--
I was born in Idaho, lived in Colorado, grew up on a ranch in Oklahoma, went away to private academies in Arkansas and California, both parents still married, two older brothers, one still in college with a pregnant wife, the other dating a girl in Oregon.

I loved the ranch in Oklahoma. I was homeschooled during that time, so I basically was a wild child, one with nature. I spent every spare second outside, and I fell in love with the dirt, the rocks, the snakes, the insects, the air, the sun, the little flowers, the clouds, the creek. I spent hours wading in the creek, building forts, riding motorcycles, four-wheelers, pretending to be an Indian, a spy, an investagator, a super hero, saving the world all the time. I was wild and free.

And then my parents shipped me off to the strictest boarding academy on the face of this planet, right there next to boot camp, and there I started learning how to be a proper young lady, how to wear a dress all the time, how to cook, how to clean, how to keep my room neat. I would stare outside the windows as the different seasons would pass---summer, fall, winter, and the worst part, spring. The call of the wild beckoned me, but I stifled it all, wrapped it up in a box, put it on the shelf, and there it lies. I am slowly unwrapping it, and learning to savor it again, except this time, I have cares and worries, and pain, and a past. I have to move out of my apartment yet again unless I find someone to rent my apartment for the summer. I have to worry about my finances, to make sure I can do everything I want, and still keep a roof over my head, my car running, and food on the table. I have family issues to deal with, I have all the cares you have, and all the cares a middle class westerner has. And yet, we are all blessed.