Hi, I Have Tendinitis

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I don’t know how school manages to get even more overbearing each semester, but it definitely does. This go around, it’s a little different. I’ve got the typical situation – I don’t have time for anything, my majors are conflicting like crazy, I’m so stressed I can’t think straight or sleep – but I guess this semester really wanted to take things to the next level. Now I also have physical pain to deal with!
I’m in two writing intensive majors, I know. But the thing is hand cramps and arm pain have never been a problem aside from the essay portions of exams, and even then, the pain goes away after a while. That is just not the case here. Something very specific here is turning me into an old lady.

It’s comm law. No, not common law – this isn’t England. Communication law, the hell class for all journalism students. Comm law is like AP US history (or government, but I never took that class because I wanted to take journalism and chorus instead) on crack. You know what else comm law is like? An abusive boyfriend. You drive yourself into exhaustion trying to be good enough for this class, and then it just turns around and slaps you in the face. Well yeah, enough about that. The point is that this class is terrifying and intimidating, especially to a control freak like me. And when the professor said we should spend five hours preparing for each class, I took it very seriously. This class took over my life.

Comm law even made it into my Instagram feed

Comm law even made it into my Instagram feed

I had a comm law test last week, and I was so ridiculously afraid of failing it that I started preparing for it the first week of school. Yeah, you know, five weeks in advance. And I didn’t just study: I put myself through hell. There would be days when I outlined my readings for three or four hours. And by outlining, I mean going back through everything I had already highlighted and writing it down. And in the week before the test, I made a bunch of flash cards, so I wrote down a bunch of the stuff I had already written all over again.
The result looked something like this, so I actually had to give up on studying:

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But then, you know, my test was last week, and once I got that out of the way, I thought I could just refrain from using my hands and arms for a while. I thought that once they were done being dramatic and hurting all the time, I would be able to write again, although nowhere near as hardcore as I went in the first month or so of school.
Yeah… that didn’t happen. Even when I wasn’t using my hands and arms, they were still hurting. I had an advising appointment last week, and I happened to look down and realize my right arm was swollen and didn’t look like the left one. The next night, I went to buy groceries and experienced an attack of arm pain that was so bad I had to go home. And you know what? It was Valentine’s Day, and I wanted to go out and sing karaoke that night, but instead I lay in my bed and cried for a little while because of my arms.
Then the next morning, I woke up and my pain was magically gone. And it stayed that way for a few days – then reality (school) got in the way, and my hands were getting sore from activities as light as holding a highlighter for 20 minutes or using a keyboard (it’s actually taken me two days to write this blog post).

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This is when my arm turned into a balloon

I know this sounds really stupid, but I feel kind of helpless. I mean, this is really interfering with my life. There is absolutely no way I can survive without using my hands – I mean, people use their hands for everything! Isn’t that something that separates us from animals, at least to a degree? I have to use my hands to read and write and take notes and hold my books. Without my hands, I will fail school unquestionably. But then there are other things that have become so much harder too, like washing dishes, carrying groceries, and texting. And I don’t know what I’ll do if it hurts to use my hands to use utensils or hold my food. I am not about to endure food-related trauma at the expense of tendinitis – eating is just way too important to me.

But yeah, I’m totally going to a doctor, because as silly as it is, I really cannot afford to deal with this.

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Lack of Focus

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I have a nasty habit of being all over the place – well, I guess you’d call it more of a personality trait than a habit, but my point still stands. If you need better evidence, just take a look at the majority of papers and drafts I’ve gotten back from my professors. Somewhere there is a “lack of clear focus” or “these ideas aren’t tied together” scribbled in the margin. To be honest, the only situation I’m really good at fixating in is anxiety attacks, and I certainly don’t want to make a life out of that.

Journalism school terrifies me sometimes because I feel like everybody has a trademark: there are the fashion-obsessed, the foodies, the music junkies, the editors-in chief, and the technologically savvy mass media people, and they all have outlets in which they represent themselves accurately and wholly. And then there’s me, the one who blogs almost anything from recycled homework to rants about stupid people and ideas she really doesn’t agree with. And I don’t know why, but I feel like trademark people just have everything together and are taken way more seriously because of it. Just thinking about it frightens me (go anxiety theme). My fingers are even trembling right now.

But I have to stop thinking about things like this, because I don’t think I can ever be one of those one-track people. I can’t even pick a single favorite color or food. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a trademark. It’s a quality I envy and don’t think I can ever have, just because of my history, genealogy, and influences.
Everything about me is a multiple. I consider myself multiracial to a degree, or at least multicultural – if I can’t qualify as multiracial because I look white and middle eastern is technically white on every standardized test I have ever taken (even though I check both “white” and “other”), then I’ll just settle with spicy. My home life is split in two. Ever since I was six and my parents split up, I’ve had to live under a joint custody. My shrink says I’m a dichotomy between an old soul and a child. I’m a double major because I couldn’t decide whether I liked literature or writing stories more – I like words! Why can’t I just like everything about words?

One hundred percent of me agrees that I’m not cut out to be one of those one-track people, and at least now I am entirely agreeing on something. I like too many things. I like words. I like eating. I like humor. I like sleeping. I like clothes. I like music. I like traveling. I like playing psychologist. I like taking pictures and recording things. I like people (well, sometimes). I think most of all I like liking things. It’s way easier to narrow down a list of the things I hate: bees, brussels sprouts, not being warm enough, being the tallest person under the umbrella, and numbers. See how much easier that was for me?

I don’t know if dualities are the way to get noticed in the real world and the future, but I guess I’m going to have to deal with it, because even though not having a clear focus makes me look really juvenile, I kind of like not having a trademark.
So from now on, I’ll just sell myself as someone who likes everything excluding that list above, because god forbid I will ever write a story about something like beekeeping.
I’ll work this.
Or, I guess I should say these.

This isn't in focus either. Get it?

This isn’t in focus either. Get it?

Look, I Have Goals!

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Oh, the I’m-back-at-school-and-have-no-motivation-but-extreme-anxiety-and-I’m-always-tired blues are here once again. They’ve actually been here for a while. How long ago did school start? Three weeks? Okay, then I’ve been in a funk for two weeks.

Despite how intensely I hate schoolwork, things are going pretty well. Actually, scratch that. School is terrifying me. But outside of school? Yeah, things are good. I’ve become addicted to Gossip Girl, so that should fill any void I’m feeling in my life. I joined a paper, so people besides my Facebook friends are reading my work. My highly offensive and hilarious work that will probably come back to bite me one day. Whatever – clips are clips, and I finally feel like there’s some purpose in my life.

So if things are going well, then why am I making new expectations for myself? Well, firstly it’s because I’m 20 now, and there are things I’ve just got to learn to do, like cooking. There’s so much more to food than just heating it up and putting sauce or cheese on top, and since I’m such an avid fan of Real Simple already, I’d like to get to the point where I can actually follow a recipe without fucking something up.
I’ve also been anxious as hell because I already feel like I can’t keep up with school. I kind of suffer from this scheduling problem where I don’t consider the consequences – and the workload, in particular –  of the classes I sign up for. I just love to make things complicated, and working on two degrees at once is becoming an issue for the first time. What becomes a priority? How can I choose between my two great loves? And no, I’m not copping out and declaring a minor instead – I was born to be an English major… it just happens that I was born to be a journalism major too.
If I can get off my ass and sort things out, school won’t be as much of a problem. My anxieties are easy to fix. All I have to do is act now. God, I sound just like my dad. I didn’t mean to ramble on so much.
Anyway, here are some things I’m aiming to do:

  1.  Be more organized with my tasks, and keep an actual day planner instead of scribbling some odd words in an unlined notebook. I actually already started this and went against my own advice – I’m using a free UGA planner, and it makes me feel like the biggest freshman. But don’t worry, I’m going to pimp it out and make it match my “wrong neighborhood motherfucker” notebooks.
  2. Learn to cook something of sustenance and start eating more super foods. I’ve warmed up to eggs in the past year, but I need to keep expanding if I want to have more energy. Oh, and since I’m 20 years old now, I should probably start liking vegetables.
  3. Build up some muscle in my arms. Hey, I’m tired of not being able to lift things! Something tells me street team might be able to help me with this a little.
  4. Write something every week. Thankfully, this won’t be an issue since I’m writing for a paper now and will get kicked off if I don’t turn anything in.
  5. Own my points in class discussions. I don’t think this will be so hard if I read Joyce’s work more closely, look over the poems I’m assigned more than once, and try to make myself open to any interpretation. Also I should remember to bring magazines to class so I don’t look like an idiot in mag writing.

I’m feeling good about these – and I’m not stressed, like I usually would be, and that’s amazing. I didn’t just set goals that will help me out tremendously. I set realistic goals, and I didn’t set an insane amount of them.
I’m fairly confident I can do this, and that makes me feel safe. It makes me feel great.