1. My 22 year streak of never actually breaking a bone (save for that one time in 5th grade where I jacked up my finger - however, no bone was supposedly ever broken) is over. Not officially, because I really don't want to go to the doctor and have to tell another dumb story to another doctor, but I'm fairly certain my feet will never be the same again. For all of you who haven't heard, this is the story. After picking up interviewees from the OKC airport and going to dinner, we all went back to my friend's house and I had to go to the bathroom, but someone was in the downstairs one so I had to go upstairs. Here you should be aware of my awesome history with stairs. As in, I'm bad at them. Anyway, coming back down the stairs, wearing some socks my mom got me for Christmas (Thanks for the danger socks, mom), I start thinking "shit, these stairs feel really steep and kind of slippery." No joke. It's like I can predict my embarrassing future. I'm not sure if it was the stairs fault, or if it was a mix of my top-heaviness and slightly over the stair speed limit pace, but I only walked down about half of the stairs. The rest of the stairs saw some combination of my stomach, face, arms, and legs. Basically I somersaulted down the second half of the stairs. Apparently I didn't scream (or swear, surprisingly) or make any noise except the thuds as I was descending to the bottom. So, now I'm laying at the bottom laughing my ass off because that was one of the most embarrassing things I've done recently and then I remember there are other people in this house that isn't mine. So, I pick up my bruised ego (after getting a picture taken so this moment will follow me forever) and face three people I met about 3 hours prior and 2 of my friends, and realize this is the impression these girls are getting of the OSU MFT program (whoops). So then I start sitting there, still laughing because my friends won't stop laughing every time they look at me and my pinky toe starts throbbing and we realize it's about twice the size of the other one. Oh, and I can't move it. At all. So that's my broken toe story. Of course, the next day was interviews so I had to explain the story because I am supposed to keep my foot elevated and I looked like a schlub, but luckily, my friends were kind enough to show all of my professors the picture so my reputation preceded me :) Awesome. Now, it's suuuuper bruised and I still can't move it and it still hurts, but I moved from not really being able to wear shoes yesterday to partially being able to walk on it without feeling like I'm dying today, so I'm hoping it just heals and I can have a regular looking foot again. Also, here's an awkward pic of my bruised foot. Sorry if you're creeped out by feet, but I know there are people who read this who will want to see this or that have foot fetishes (just kidding about the last part). My toe is still about twice the size of the other one. Ugh. Be happy I didn't post the side view.
3. Pretty sure I'm actually becoming an insomniac. I haven't been able to go to sleep at a regular hour in forever. Even if I have to wake up hella early, I'll be up until at least 2 or 3. So I've been pretty delirious lately. Making me say really awkward things in really awkward places. For instance, telling one of my professors of my weird crush on Dr. Drew. In class. Or why I blog weird stuff at 1 in the morning.
One thing I've been thinking about a lot lately is trust. Weird. But I have this thing where I can never decide if I trust everyone or if I trust no one. I know I've said both plenty of times. I'm starting to think that it's the same thing. Trusting everyone means that you believe everything everyone says...which I generally do. But I kind of feel like if you believe everything anyone says, you also don't believe anything anyone says. Because everything can change in an instant. How can you believe everyone? It's impossible. Someone is going to contradict someone else, and then you're in a cycle. It's like a walking contradiction. A pit of confusion. I guess I'll just keep trusting/not trusting everyone since I'm not sure I can stop it anyway.
Also, I'm wondering about people with "types". People always ask people what their type is. If you ask me, I probably answer something different based on who is asking and what I'm thinking at that exact moment. I mean, really, if you look at the last 3 or 4 guys I've been attracted to, they have absolutely nothing in common. But most would fit in to one of my types. I'm not going to specifically say what they are because God knows who reads this, but there is a pretty big spectrum. So let's say a person has one type. Does that make you shallow? Like if you find yourself only be attracted to someone if they're blonde, 6'4", and have a 6 pack (not a type of mine, by the way) is that your subconscious' way of being shallow for you? Eliminating people based on dumb stuff that isn't super relevant...I mean, we could get into evolutionary psych, but that's not where I'm going. But really, if you have this "type" and you don't talk to anyone that doesn't fit it, you're missing some of the best stuff. Earlier mentioned blonde guy could in fact be a convict, but your type says "go for it, he's perfect," when brunette, short, fat guy is everything you want and more. Maybe every blonde, 6'4" fit dude is actually an asshole, but you're being shallow and don't know any better. So, I'm thinking types are overrated. I think, based on my multiple types, maybe I just really don't have one. Maybe it's like my trust problem. I like everyone, I like no one. That sounded slutty - again, not what I meant. But you get it. Or you don't. I don't care, it's my blog.
Well, that got delirious fast. Since I started writing this blog I have done 2 loads of laundry, eaten a bowl of sherbet, and now I'm sucking down cough drops because all of a sudden I feel allergic to air. Now I kind of just want some chicken soup and a cuddle because being in pain and feeling like shit is not a good combo. My prostitute neighbor has about 4 guys outside yelling right now, so I'll probably be up a little bit longer...thinking I may try and make myself a fancy dinner on Valentine's Day to celebrate being done with this stats test.....and by fancy, I mean potentially cooking a steak on my George Foreman....I could see that turning into another unfortunate blog post when I set my apartment on fire, but we will see what happens. In the spirit of V Day, you should all listen to Jason Mraz's new song I Won't Give Up and then cry little baby tears. So good. Also, now that I'm completely stream-of-consciousness-ing, when did Stephen King movies get so shitty? I DVRed Bag of Bones sometime last year and finally got around to watching the first two hours of it....the suck could come from the fact that friggen Pierce Brosnan is the main character, or potentially because there is still another two hours I have to watch, but the first half made me want to shoot myself. I miss the ones I used to watch as a kid. Maybe they were only scary because I was a kid, but still. Going downhill, Stephen. Going downhill. Ok, I need to stop now.
P.S. I just spell checked...it says "blonde" is spelled without an "e". Since when are both not acceptable? Lame grammar rules. I'm keeping it in protest.
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