If Someone Isn’t Laughing At My Pain, I’m Doing Something Wrong. In Other News: New Hair!

So, guys, I dyed my hair. Yeah, after that blog title, THAT’S what I’m going to start with. I like when my hair is bright red, so it was time to redye it with the original hair dye I used the first time. Spoiler alert, my hair really faded, but, other spoiler alert, I kind of liked the color it was. I just get bored if my hair is a normal color and I don’t do well when I’m bored, plus, everyone thinks I’m cute when my hair is normal, and that shit needs to stop.

That being said, I really miss when I had all the colors in my hair, so I was going back and forth about what color to add when my awesome British friend from The Historical Society pointed out that if I put blue in my hair after dying my hair red that I will be very Olympic. I agreed, so blue it was. Instead of bleaching out my hair, I got real hair extensions. Because I’m a girl who feels really stupid right now, let’s be Chatty Kathys and talk about hair and add some pictures. That seems like a sane thing to do in a time like this.

This is my hair before. I kind of dug the color, but grays were jumping out at me and my hair practically glowed red in the sunlight, except for my roots. People never believe me when I tell them I’m graying at twenty-six, and this picture does absolutely nothing to help my liar, liar status. But just know that the guy in Sprint asked me if I dropped my phone a lot today, I told him no, he bought it, and I retracted my statement and told him yes. I am that bad of a liar.

On a side note, let’s ignore my face. Yes, I beat up my lip, which, after a snake bite and a tick bite that caused Lyme disease just seems like a lame failed attempt at maiming me. No, I’m not wearing much makeup. Later I will be wearing none. If you have weak stomachs or there are children in the room, shield the eyes. I’m kidding, I look the same all the time, with or without makeup. I’m just really white. Also, yeah, I took my own pictures like it’s 1998 and this is Myspace, and yeah, I did it in my bathroom, but when there’s no one there to hold the camera and I needed the comfort of air conditioning, crap happens, then you die.

This is the color I dye my hair with, in case any of you want to use it. This is also a picture of what it looks like on, in case any of you want to use it, so that no one is running around crying because their hair is going to turn out pink and praying the salon is open late and cheap, while trying to get it off and simultaneously drown their sorrows in a bowl of Rocky Road Ice Cream. Yes, the duck face was totally necessary. I’ve never gotten to do it before. I’m done doing it now. Never again. Pinky swear.

This is my hair after. Obviously. I guess this didn’t need a caption.

In case you can’t see how bright this color actually is, voila!

As I mentioned, bleach and my hair sounded like an unhappy party, so I went to Sally Beauty Supply and bought real hair extensions. If you’re interested in getting them, they’re below.

I’ve never used clip in extensions before, and I wasn’t sure how to put them in or if they would blend. They’re super easy, you can’t see the clips no matter how hard you try to screw things up, and being real human hair you can style them. Creepy, yes. Efficient, also yes. Once they were in, I was a happy camper with hair like this. And, let’s face it, someone’s got to be a happy camper today.

For other things that make me happy, let me tell you a story. As I mentioned, I couldn’t even lie to the Sprint guy today. He was merely suggesting that if I dropped my phone a lot, and if by a lot he means three or four times a day, then I should get a phone cover because it will absorb the shock of the drop. Huh, I always thought those things were useless contraptions that made your phone look pretty. I learned something new today. He encouraged me to trek on over to a local store where I could get a cover for a couple of bucks. I got one with owls. OWLS, you guys! I have a mild obsession with things with owls on them. The other day, I wore a sticker of an owl for no other reason than it made me happy. There’s therapy for this, right? But seriously, guys, look how cute!

Although I’m sitting here trying to avoid the tagline of this blog header, I realize I can’t avoid it for too long. I have a motto, and that’s if someone isn’t laughing at my pain, I’m doing something wrong. When I get mad or really upset and hurt, I tend to go into a rant worthy of an Amy Sherman Palladino show. I can’t help it, I don’t try to do it, it just comes out. At least one time in my rant someone will, without a doubt, burst out laughing. They think I’m offended by this, but when I go back over what I said, I realize it’s pretty funny. Some highlights from tonight include:

“The obvious solution is to kill him, but I don’t agree with murder and I don’t want to get my clothes dirty, and murder involves blood and mud and car trunks and dragging and digging, and it’s too much work!”

“Maybe it’s me. I try to do things right and be kind and talk to people first when I’m unsure. If it’s me, that’s easily fixable because instead of wanting to kill the guys, I can just kill myself, and then if I get blood on my shirt, no big deal. Dead people don’t need clothes. By the way, feel free to raid my closet in the event of my untimely death.”

For those of you who know me, you know I’m the person least likely to ever commit murder, ever. I’m also the least likely person to ever kill myself, ever. Thus why these are funny.

At one point, when I thought my mom was in bed and asleep, I had a little incident with the dogs. I had no plans on ranting to anyone, but I was getting them a cookie and this happened.

“What, you don’t want this cookie? You don’t want a Quack? You’re going to be picky? Well, you know what happens when I want things? They don’t call, they don’t talk to me, they don’t say, ‘hey, what’s up.’ They don’t say, ‘hey, I’m getting back to you about that thing you asked me to get back to you about.’ They just wait until I tell them I like them, and then they seem fine with it, but they don’t call, they don’t talk to me. You know why, because you can’t always get what you want!”

I heard my mom laughing clear from the other room. She wasn’t asleep

Good Advice

I am one of those people who will habitually under-react to every single situation. The earth can be crumbling in and I will calmly plot all the reasons to fix it, and then freak out hours later when it’s all said and done. I’ve been through too much with my health and in my life to do anything different. I was always the one who had to keep it together when someone died, which has happened numerous times, or someone got sick, or someone needed something, or something went wrong. It’s instilled in me to act first and panic second. In most given situations, such as being robbed at gunpoint at work and having my life threatened by a man looking for his pregnant girlfriend who was hiding out in the bathroom of the place I worked, this has been a good thing. It’s probably saved my butt in a pinch a few times.

In other situations, non dire ones, this can also become my own downfall. I want to give people I care about a chance, so when something gets weird or goes wrong, I’m always the first one to go up to bat for that person with legitimate excuses about why things went the way they did. I never want to falsely accuse someone of something or make a big ordeal out of something that probably isn’t a big ordeal. What ends up happening, however, is I choose the wrong times to do this and end up getting heart-screwed.

What I’m saying here, gals, is don’t waste time on someone when you like them more than they like you. You will get hurt. If you’re thinking, but I wouldn’t do this to that person, or I would do this for that person, and the same isn’t happening, cut your losses, cry in a tub of ice cream, and then move on. It’s good advice. If only I would take it.

Awkward Turtle Marries Awkward Penguin

It all comes out in the wash, or “wersh,” if you’re from Western Pennsylvania. At least that’s what my grandma used to say. Well, Grandma, I’d like to see how the “wersh” can correct this summer.

Y’all know how I hurt my arm? And got bit by a tick and got Lyme Disease? While I was still taking medication for the Lyme, I got bit by a snake. Folks, I can’t make this stuff up. And you know what’s funnier? I didn’t even know I got bit by a snake. There I was, walking along from my house to my garage, when I felt something get my leg. I figured it was a bee, though it hurt worse than a bee sting. I kept walking. I paid no attention whatsoever to it, because I figured some little jerk stung me and was lying dead somewhere, suicide by their own bad choices. I approved. Then, two days later, the sucker was so swollen that I literally didn’t even have an ankle bone. My ankle just looked like one huge blob, and my ankle was so warm it felt like it was on fire. I took a trip to Med Express, where I was repeatedly asked if I was sure something had stung me. I hadn’t bothered to look down when it happened, so of course I was sure. No one should listen to me when I’m sure.

Long story short, I attempted to volunteer the other day, which failed miserably, but is beyond the point. Two snake experts were working that day. The one saw my leg and asked me when I got bit by a snake. I told her never. She explained to me that there were small, black snakes that could bite you and be gone before you’d even see them that lived in the area, and that the bite I had was definitely a snake bite. I went about my day. Later on, I went in a separate room and was given the same speech by the other snake lady. So, folks, I guess I got bit by a snake. Awesome. Good news, it’s getting better and I will definitely be fine. I can walk on it, but I’m not supposed to. Oops. I guess it’s another week’s worth of Warehouse 13 reruns for me.

I know a couple of you have asked me about a follow up to former blog posts. Here’s the thing, Dumbo the Amazing Elephant over here (ie, Me), has put her blog on Facebook, and now people who I know who also know the other person involved in the earlier debacle read my blog, and these happen to be the same people who don’t know about the entire debacle going on, but will figure it out. Therefore, I’ve kept kind of quiet about things. But then I thought about it and realized I’ve never been that quiet on my blog, and this is my space to talk about my life, so screw this debacle. Let’s girl talk.

My friend strategically sent me this picture last night. It explains my entire situation in one college dorm blackboard.

Right now, I have absolutely not even an inkling of a clue about what’s going on. What I do know is my life even laughs at my love life. I started out talking to said person who I do like nearly every day. I didn’t really know him until he left for the summer, and then we got to know each other through text. My thought on this is you tend to be more honest, more you through text, so we probably got to know each other better than we would have in person, so I think, in retrospect, it was a good thing. We talked nearly every day, then he stopped texting me. I’d text him, he’d always text back, and we’d talk, but after awhile he’d stop talking. Then I told him I liked him. We seemed okay for a little. Now I haven’t talked to him in a week and a half. Yes, folks, we have reached Awkward Turtle Marries Awkward Penguin mode. I think we’re just figuring this all out when he gets back, but he gets back soon, and who in the heck knows how that will actually go. I’m so confused. People wonder why I never try to date. This is probably why.

Half of the time I wonder if I’m a stupid girl for sitting back and calmly waiting until he gets home to see if anything will happen or if we’ll just remain friends, a point that I won’t push either way and will let him make the ultimate decision without discomfort since I’ve said my peace. This is such an interesting situation for me. I’m not the kind of girl who likes someone, or meets someone and immediately gets along with them. We’ll see if this works out in my favor. He’s a nice guy, and I’ve been looking for a genuinely nice guy for awhile. Fingers crossed, I guess. I just wish liking someone didn’t have to become such an ordeal for me. Why couldn’t I just be a normal girl? Is there a guide for what you do when your life becomes a Taylor Swift song (See: Enchanted)? Taylor Swift, you should get on that.

In other news, my mother has become more of a raging psychopath than ever. I can’t wait to move out. I’m scared to death she’s going to kill herself by doing something ridiculous and stupid hours after I’m gone, but I can’t stay here. She’s gone through my drawers and stole my stuff while I was at a friend’s and insists the food I bought is hers and fights me when I try to eat it while reprimanding me for not buying more food. Pittsburgh, we have an issue. We’ve all tried to talk her into getting help, because something is definitely wrong, but she refuses and becomes belligerent when we try to help her. We can’t say we haven’t repeatedly tried. And I do mean repeatedly.

Come On, Summer, Let’s Eat Crow Together!

Oh, hey gals. What’s happening? I know I’ve been super flaky this summer about blogging, and a few of you have been asking me what’s been going on since the last post, so I’m going to take this post to clear up why I’m as flaky as…I have no clean metaphor here. Be sure to add your own.

For those of you who know me, you know I’ve been a complete basket case this summer. This is new considering usually I’m just half a fruit loop. I passed a full fruit loop about a month and a half ago when my life got crazy. I apologize to any of you who have had to deal with me this summer, and I’ve already repeatedly ate crow and apologized to one person numerous times, but I really am sorry that I’m this crazy, because I’m not normally like this. I knew when I started to feel better around the end of April that this summer was going to explode into a menagerie of trying to catch up on the things I have gotten behind on in the last five years of being sick. But I was feeling better, so no big deal, right? Bring it on summer!

You all see where this is going, don’t you?

For one, my arm never properly healed. In case I didn’t recant the arm saga of 2012 because, well, my arm was hurting too badly to do so, let me share that with you know. A few months into the year, my arm swelled up for absolutely no reason and I could barely move it. It took a few doctors to figure out the problem, my arm was put in a splint, and that should have been the end of it. Except the doctor gave me the wrong size splint, I had to get a new one, the new one broke in less than a week, and the doctors office refused to give me a new one. I needed a prescription for another one because of the type of splint it was, and he wouldn’t write it, so after a ton of hassle I got a new one from an emergency medical center, long story short. Now, I had asked the splint debacle doctor if I could wear a splint without causing a blood clot because of my blood disorder before I even put the splint on. He said yes. He lied. My arm ended up worse off after the splint, but because of my blood disorder I couldn’t wear another one, and it wasn’t healing. I come to find out yesterday that the ligament is messed up in my arm now, but we don’t know if it’s because of the original issue being treated improperly, or if it was treated properly but my blood disorder caused issues, stressed the arm, and bye, bye good ligament. Either way, now my arm looks like this.

That’s okay. No big deal. It’s just an arm, and it’s even patriotic and is feeling very Olympic today. (Bonus points for those of you who know what movie that quote came from.) And look, I can type and such. The athletic endurance tape seems to be holding my arm okay, but who knows how long I’ll have to wear it for. It’s just that I didn’t need to spend two months arguing with my arm, especially when the original cause for the issue with my arm, as it was later discovered, was a pinched nerve in my back, but by the time we figured that out the arm had a legitimate issue. I also have to get it double checked by my autoimmune doctor to make sure this isn’t an autoimmune or arthritic issue on top of it. Yep, my life is kind of like that to me. And no, the irony of me having to wear athletic endurance tape is not lost on me.

Sneaking up on me for the win has also been this random side pain that waited until right at the beginning of June to pounce on me and be all, boo-ya! I’ve been all over the place trying to figure this out. My doctor thought it was my gallbladder. I had testing done. I went to a surgeon expecting to have it removed. I had more testing done. The surgeon decided that it stays, at least for the time being. So now I have two other appointments so that more people can poke at me and try to figure out why this pain is debilitating enough that I had to buy more air conditioners just to be in my house without getting sick, because although the pain is there without the heat, the heat makes it intolerable. I have a feeling this is going to lead to procedures and still surgery. Wish me luck?

Sadly, it’s not the heat that will kill you, it’s the humidity, which my blood disorder has been hating on lately. This summer has been painful, and quite frankly, I really don’t have time for it. Because I’ve been in pain, I’m sleeping stupid, so I’m half sleeping at night, and then napping during the day. I feel like I would fit in at the retirement home. Plus, I got bit by something, but no one knows what and why it’s not healing, so I had a blood panel done to make sure I don’t have some sort of infection. The results aren’t back yet. Are you all beginning to see why I’ve been so gosh darn cranky though? And that’s just the medical stuff.

I jam packed my summer with paranormal cases stupidly thinking my body was going to cooperate. I piled them on. I ended up canceling half of them, because I just can’t do it. Every time I canceled one, I got a new one unexpectedly. In fact, I spent all day Sunday running around on three different unexpected cases. I just can’t go anywhere without running into dead people, I’m telling you what. Who says Ghost Whisperer is just a TV show? Myself and Amy Allan would beg to differ. (Love her!)

On top of that, I volunteer for the wildlife center, which I used to only do once a week, but now it’s twice a week because of the amount of rescues we’ve been getting in. Plus I’ve also been doing rescues. In fact, look at this cute little duck I rescued the other day. I’m going to ask everyone to say a prayer for Baby Henry, of whom I did not name, even if you’re not the praying type. He’s only a few days old, but was somehow separated from his mommy and found running around in a gas station parking lot on a main road. Being so young, he may not make it, and I will be heartbroken and devastated if he doesn’t. I’m obsessed with baby ducks like the eHarmony cat lady is obsessed with cats (Okay, I don’t sob and such over them, but you get the picture.), and am very attached to this little rescue. How could you not be? Just look at all the cutes it possesses. When it’s that cute, it’s not longer just cute, but has cutes.

I’ve also been helping out the historical society this summer with their ongoing paranormal issues, just as I’ve been doing for the last year. This year has been insane, and things at the site have drastically changed. Another group of investigators had to be called in, and I now have sixteen hours of logging evidence that needs done, and has needed done, but no time to do it. (I genuinely need an assistant. I take all cases pro bono, though, and everyone wants paid.) I feel like I’m losing my mind, because I’m sincerely concerned about the one girl getting injured at the site. This isn’t something that’s going to be solved quickly, but desperately needs to be. If I were well, I’d have more time to devote to there, but I can only do what I can do and find I need to sit a lot, which is also an issue with the wildlife center. Thank God they’re both understanding of my medical issues. Of course, I guess that’s also why it’s called volunteering.

Some of you are also aware that I need to move so that I don’t lose my insurance. I already had one false start moving, where the complex wouldn’t accept my medical dog, otherwise known as the awesome Greta Hayley. Now I have to find somewhere else to live. I’m having issues with my insurance left and right because I’m still living at home, and have spent more than my fair share of time on the phone trying to figure out what’s going on. Contrary to what they think, it’s not that easy to just pick up and move. You have to find a place, be able to afford it, pack your stuff, get insurance, the list goes on.

I feel like I lost my head weeks ago and am still trying to find it. However, hopefully you can all understand why I’ve been a full fruit loop of a basket case. It’s nothing against any of you guys, it’s just that my life has never been this crazy, and I still have a bunch of appointments coming up, and things just keep rolling in. I’m beginning to become afraid that the summer is just going to eat me alive, or at least that’s what I would think if I were that dramatic, but I’m not. Hopefully things will slow down for me soon so I don’t end up in a straight jacket, mumbling things about summer being a murderer and drooling applesauce everywhere. There’s a picture for you.

For those of you who are wondering what happened with the whole debacle in the last post, please remember I was also dealing with that on top of all of this. You all know me well enough to know feelings are not something I do…at all. Forget doing them well. I did have an online dating profile. I don’t now. I took it down. I was getting an insane amount of emails, and most of the guys legitimately seemed like decent guys, but it wasn’t who I am or what I wanted. I tried talking to some of the guys, but there was nothing there for me, no connection. But I did learn I was demisexual, so I guess that’s a plus, right? (What? I always get personal on here. You all know me. I like being honest.)

As far as the guy I liked, I told him how I felt. My friend who has been helping me through this, who is also his friend, and myself were shocked when he didn’t completely shut down and stop answering my texts when I told him. We figured it would either be too late or shut him down completely. I don’t know what will happen between us, and it may end up being nothing, but now he knows how I feel and we’ll sort it out when he gets back. I learned something from that, too. If you have feelings for someone, just tell them. It’s not the end of the world if they don’t feel the same way. No one died, no one got hurt, the world is still spinning on the same axis. At worst, they don’t feel the same way, then you have to make a decision as to if you still want to be friends with them or not, but life will go on. If you tell someone, you might be able to fix the issue, but if you keep it to yourself, you’re going to get nowhere but frustrated. So was all of this worth it to learn all of these things, though extremely stressful? Yes, it was.

The Things I Never Talk About

There’s a few things I promised I would never talk about on this blog, but I’m going to break that rule today. It’s probably going to get me in trouble somewhere, somehow, but I’m still going to talk about it. And you know why? Because at this point I have nothing left to lose, and maybe someone else can give me some advice or take some away from this.

As most of you know, I never date. I am vehemently not attracted to dating, and awkwardness, and most guys. I haven’t been on a date in five years. Nothing screams that louder. To be fair, I usually can’t meet people that I like and am comfortable with. There’s been a long standing joke that I would be the woman with fifty cats, yelling at kids to get off my lawn. In reality, it would be fifty dogs, but who’s getting technical?

Enter this equation into the mix. I met a nice guy. I know. Most of you have passed out from the shock. You’ve all known me too long. He’s nice, and I’m interested in him and seeing if there’s a mutual interest and if this could go anywhere. There, if you didn’t pass out before, you did just now. You’re welcome. And no, I won’t pay your medical bills. But in all honesty, you know how rare this is for me.

I know you all want to be really proud of me and think this is cute and what not, and it probably is or would be, except nothing is ever that easy in my life. You guys know my life. You’re not shocked by this. The anonymous guy I met (Unless one of our friends reads this, then oops!); we’ve gotten to be friends. I enjoy him. He’s funny, we’re a lot alike, and we’ve established we respect each other, which is half the issue in any relationship right there, just friends or more. I know what you’re all thinking. Where’s the problem? There’s more than one.

He and I, we have a weird relationship. He’s shy and odd with the way he says things, and I can’t understand if he’s interested in me or not. We have mutual friends who are also trying to figure this out, while not wanting to get involved, and quite frankly, they shouldn’t have to be involved. Every time I try to talk to him, I feel like I can’t get anywhere to find out if he’d even, down the road, be interested in seeing if there was more to the relationship than friends. I’m not pushy, just wondering. Lately, he won’t text me unless I text him, in which case we have a fun conversation, but then he’ll just stop texting me. Apparently that’s just him, but it’s very frustrating and confusing.

To be fair, I know I’m not the clearest person either. I realize I frequently complain to him about not being able to meet nice guys, when, in fact, that couldn’t be more insulting to him, because he is literally one of the nicest people on the planet. I spent an hour apologizing to him for things I’ve said to him today. So yeah, we’re both horrible at interacting with single friends of a different sex. Sue us.

I know what you’re all thinking. Stop texting and hang out with him. That’s the other thing, he’s away for the summer. I have no leeway here, and I literally met him two days before he left for the summer. Do you see why I always say my life thinks it’s funny? Everyone is telling me to wait until he gets back and see where it goes. If I don’t know if he’s interested, I don’t feel like it’s okay to wait for two months to see if something happens. I feel like that’s wrong and creepy. I feel like everyone is upset with me over this, and everyone’s telling me if he finds out I’m dating, he’ll think I’m not interested in him. I am, but there’s no way to talk to him about this, because trust me, I’ve tried, and it’s not fair for me to have to wait two months for something that might not happen. It’s also not fair to him for me to be the girl who waits two months if he’s not interested. This is one big circle of stupid.

I would like to take a minute to remind you that we’re both in our twenties. Go ahead, laugh.

So, gals, this is why I don’t date. It complicates things. And liking someone can seriously screw up a good friendship. I’m not the kind of person who ever wants to do that, nor would I ever shove my feelings on someone else and upset or confuse them, which is probably another large issue here. So now what? Suggestions? Thoughts? Ways to bury this post so the poor kid never sees this and gets upset with me?

Sadly, I know I’m not the only one who has been through this.

On another note, I’m probably going to try online dating. I’m not even really doing it because I want to, but just because I don’t want to sit at home all summer, staring at my shoes and wondering when the pizza man is going to arrive, because he’ll be my only conversationalist friend of the day. Let’s be honest, I need some new blog material anyway. I’m kind of just doing it for the stories.

EDIT: Alright, y’all, I’ve joined online dating. Not because I want to, but seriously, sitting and staring at my shoe all summer is going to just wear me the heck down.  I’ve already gotten a few messages from people who my spidey senses tell me aren’t going to murder me, hack me into pieces, or try to sleep with me on the first date. I feel a little special, which absolutely means this will go wrong somewhere and I will have stories for the blog. Wish me luck. (I really don’t want to be doing this.)