Okay, so that's a little melodramatic, but it is November, which means NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and though I don't actually think fifty-thousand words will fit into my schedule this year, I'm at least going to try for half that, because, as busy as I am, if I don't take at least a half hour to myself to just be creative, then I might actually kill myself because it's all just...wow.
In other news...
I have a new brace for my left hand. Basically, here's what happened: I played piano, something hurt, I tried to stretch my hand, something hurt, I screamed, I stopped playing, went to bed...fast forward a few days, and it hurts more, and I went to my regular practice time today and lasted less than three minutes before I realized I couldn't play anymore. Bring on the tears, bring on the "I both wish and pray to God not that someone notices and asks me what's wrong," bring on the ice pack...and the advice of two trusted adults that I go see the school nurse. Unfortunately she's not in, but I am able to see the sports medic, who assures me at least that it's not broken, but yes, I have a problem, and here's how to fix it: get a brace that keeps the thumb stabilized, practice only half the amount you have been ("Yes, you have a recital, but do you want to play at that recital?"), ice it a couple times a day, take Aleve every twelve hours, and come back and see the medic in ten days. And though yeah, that all sucks, honestly, after wearing the brace for a few hours, I already notice less pain, so I guess she knows what she's talking about.
Though I would also appreciate prayers that this goes away quickly (although it looks like it's one of those things I'll be fighting forever, like if I had arthritis of tendonitis [or is it spelled tendinitis or do both work?], there will be flare-ups until I die), so I can play my pieces freely and not add to the chaos that is my life.
Also, I went to a certain clinic, did certain exams, and you are now looking at a girl (or reading the works of, anyhow) that is on birth control.
Before any of you goodie-two-shoes family members of mine start freaking out (because I'm sure you will), no, I am not sexually active. I still want to wait for marriage (though I admit the longer I live, the more open I am to someone with a clever turn of phrase, since yeah, he better be clever or he's out immediately), and in the event that I did become sexually active, other contraceptives would be necessary anyway. I have heard some people refer to birth control as the abortion pill (which is something different, and fyi, the pill doesn't kill the eggs, it just stops them from being released), and as I grew up with that in my ear, I admit I was hesitant in making an appointment. But I'm adult now, and I don't need Mommy's permission to see doctors, and did you know that birth control not only regulates your periods but your hormones as well? And if you know me, as I hope you do, or why would you read this, don't you know how out of control my hormones are? How emotional I get over EVERYTHING?
Case if point: I started crying while doing the dishes yesterday. Not because I hurt myself or because I'm mad that Keli Rhea never does them or even because there was a sad song on my iPod while I washed. No, I just cried. Because I have no control over my emotions, and because I really wanted to bathe myself rather than the pot we cooked dinner in, and because I just cry over everything. More so these days than ever before. And yes, there are stressors in my life, but honestly, if I can get hormone regulation for free, why not take advantage of that?
And just in case I do find a clever guy, I've got a year's supply to help avoid the early appearance of my first little girl (or, okay, boy, but I really want a girl first, otherwise I'll worry I might never get one, because I worry over silly things like that).
I had a discussion with the nurse at the clinic, actually, when she was asking all her questions about my lifestyle and such, and though she was clearly surprised by my life of abstinence (I think I can safely assume that most girls that walk through those doors are not leading such lives), she said she thought I was one of the smartest girls out there. For once, being a twenty-six-year-old virgin is not a stigma. It is a gift, and while I talked about friends who have half-jokingly criticized my decision (whether this was a true criticism or an effort to make themselves feel better about their own choices, I would never presume, though I admit I wonder), she praised it, and said what I wish my friends would say: "It is your life, and it is your choice, and if you haven't found someone you think is worthy of your body, then who is anyone else to judge you?"
And I suppose you could say I'm writing this little rant to justify to myself, too, but I admit I expect the criticism of family especially, because that's just what I've found my family does. Not necessarily intentional, but it's always there. And I just want to take this time to say what the nurse said: "It's my life." And if you think I'm being an idiot, while I'm sure I love you (I admit, the older I get, the more debatable that phrase is), I would greatly appreciate it if you would stuff it. Or at least say something along the lines of "We're proud, Em, that you're taking responsibility for yourself, and making adult choices." If you think those choices are wrong, that's fine, but at least give me credit for making them, especially since even when I got my last tetanus shot at twenty-two, I still had my Mommy call the doctor's office.
So I'm just growing up a little.
Yay me.
I feel I'm changing more and more every day, getting more confident, more out-going, and yes, sometimes, more mean (because seriously, I've been nice for so long, I just don't care anymore; if you're being an idiot, I'm going to tell you), and though it's a little weird getting used to the new me, it's also kind of fun. I may be a little crazy, and I may sometimes have too much energy, but I'm feeling a sense of hyper-focus lately that can only bring out the best...
[Or okay, maybe make me hurt my hand with the over-intensity I've had in my practice, but we covered that already, so meh.]
So, to end on a lighter note (and a less defensive note, because I hate feeling that way, though I wanted to explain myself fully anyway), here are a few things that are gaining in awesomeness from my newer self:
1. My writing has never been more powerful than it is now. I honestly feel like I will be ready to publish my first book by the time I graduate, with another one not long after. And I hope you will all read it when it gets to your local bookstore.
2. I chose a few new pieces for my next recital (which is eons away, but since the junior recital will be done in two weeks, I figured why not?) without consulting my professor, who was away in Italy this last month. It's a daring move, and I was a little afraid that I would discover I put effort into pieces she hates, but she approved them all right off the bat. I'm not sure if it was my "So I know you like collaboration..." opening, or the fact that I was just so earnest in my asking her if I could pretty-please play these pieces, but there was not a single argument. And maybe, maybe, that's because she really thinks I can play these pieces. Because I'm just that much more awesome these days.
3. Though as I said, I'm not going to push myself for those fifty-thousand words, I am confident that whatever I write for NaNo will be amazing, and the ideas coming are already some of my best...here's to an awesome month.
4. Oh, and I may be finding love sometime soon...but we'll keep that one hush-hush until there's something more concrete, okay?
I may be a little bit mad, but as Charles Kingsleigh said, "All the best people are."
Here's to madness.
Cheers.
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