House Hunters: Where people seem to think that carpet and wall paint are unchangeable.
House Hunters International: Where people appear confused by the fact that dwellings in other countries differ from those in America.
Property Brothers: Where people seem surprised that the brothers show them gigantic expensive houses even though the show is in its zillionth season and literally everyone knows the gimmick.
Fixer Upper: Where you pay more attention to how adorable Chip and Joanna are than anything happening to the houses.
Love it or List it: Where people have giant expectations for tiny budgets and there is nothing better than Hillary and David's banter.
Love it or List it, Too: Where you start to miss Hillary and David real fast.
Rehab Addict: Where her accent starts to grate on you real hard about 15 minutes in.
Flip or Flop: Where you never cease to be amazed by the shitty condition in which people leave foreclosed houses.
Extreme Homes: Where you get really excited because this show is so cool and it's NEVER ON.
Designed to Sell: Where people have to sell houses that look really really nice when the designer is done with them and it just makes your heart hurt.
Selling New York: Where people pay $30 million for what you could buy for $3 million in literally any other city.
Property Virgins: Where people expect granite counter tops, a pool, an open floor plan, and new construction in their first house. For $100,000.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Monday, December 21, 2015
Help! I've fallen, and I can't get up!
To begin, let's just briefly recount Kelly's issues with back injury:
1. In the summer before my second year of college, I tore a bunch of my spinal muscles because I picked up a kid that I was babysitting and twisted around weirdly. Got some muscle relaxers, did some physical therapy, it all turned out okay.
2. The summer after my third year of college, I was struck by a vehicle as I was walking to class. I walked away from that just fine (relatively), but it likely caused some soft tissue damage leading to...
3. The following fall semester, I had what I was told was a slipped disk, though after speaking with my dad and another doctor (and remembering that the medical care in Auburn is beyond shitty), I have come to the conclusion that it was actually the same thing that happened to me yesterday, just less severe.
Yesterday morning, I woke up and was having some pain in my lower back. It happens every once in a while since that "disk injury" a few years ago. I wasn't terribly worried about it, but it just kept getting worse and worse throughout the day. It probably didn't help that we were driving to and from Knoxville to see a play, so I was sitting down for about six hours.
When we got home, I lay down on the floor, put a pillow with a heating pad under my lower back, and put my feet on a chair with my knees at right angles. I was told by the Auburn disk doctor that this was a good position for your back. And I gotta say, I had zero pain for the 20–30 minutes that I was laying like that. Woohoo!
So after about a half an hour, I decided I should get up to take a shower. You know, hygiene and all that. So I gently rolled onto my side. It hurt a little when I did that. Then I tried to push myself up, and oh my LANTA, something was very, very wrong. I tried pushing myself up with just my arms. I tried twisting my torso so I could put both my arms under me and get more power, all the while feeling like I had a fleet of microscopic Roman soldiers jabbing their spears into my spine.
Eventually the pain got so bad that I started crying a little bit, and at that point I called my dad, who was watching football in the basement. Once he got upstairs he told me to try moving in several different directions to see how we could get me up. Every single movement was AGONY. I cannot adequately describe how badly this hurt.
So at this point I'm sobbing and hysterical. Finally he gets me to roll (literally, just like flop over) onto my back, and he and my mom pulled me up to standing (this whole ordeal took about half an hour, by the way). Once I was standing, I couldn't breathe; I couldn't move; I couldn't speak; I just stood there gasping for air like a dumb fish. A big dumb fish. It was terrifying and unreasonably painful. Like, I cannot adequately get across just how much pain I was in.
Dad called the ER, and we drove down there (Side note: super proud of myself for being able to hobble to the car in my state). My parents are trying to ask me things in the car about where it hurts and all the things a concerned parent should ask, and I responded in two words or less, sounding like what I would imagine people sound like when they just got done running a marathon.
I had also taken a 5mg of valium, because when I say I was hysterical, I was fucking HYSTERICAL. I was shaking partly from the pain, but also partly because I was panicking myself half to death. And even with 5 mg of valium in my system, my pulse was still at 98, and my blood pressure was...um, real high. Like I'm not even going to say it because it's embarrassing.
Anxiety is fun.
So what actually happened is that I tore a ligament between my iliac crest and sacrum, so the joint moved ever so slightly out of place and got all inflamed, and shit went down. You know the rest.
I have also received a lovely cocktail of medications including steroids, muscle relaxers, and what is essentially souped up ibu profen.
Apparently this is going to happen to me a few more times in my life, so I should probably go ahead and just get one of those life alert buttons. You know, the ones from the commercials where 90-year-old grandmas say, "Help! I've fallen, and I can't get up!"
Because I'm 90.
1. In the summer before my second year of college, I tore a bunch of my spinal muscles because I picked up a kid that I was babysitting and twisted around weirdly. Got some muscle relaxers, did some physical therapy, it all turned out okay.
2. The summer after my third year of college, I was struck by a vehicle as I was walking to class. I walked away from that just fine (relatively), but it likely caused some soft tissue damage leading to...
3. The following fall semester, I had what I was told was a slipped disk, though after speaking with my dad and another doctor (and remembering that the medical care in Auburn is beyond shitty), I have come to the conclusion that it was actually the same thing that happened to me yesterday, just less severe.
Yesterday morning, I woke up and was having some pain in my lower back. It happens every once in a while since that "disk injury" a few years ago. I wasn't terribly worried about it, but it just kept getting worse and worse throughout the day. It probably didn't help that we were driving to and from Knoxville to see a play, so I was sitting down for about six hours.
When we got home, I lay down on the floor, put a pillow with a heating pad under my lower back, and put my feet on a chair with my knees at right angles. I was told by the Auburn disk doctor that this was a good position for your back. And I gotta say, I had zero pain for the 20–30 minutes that I was laying like that. Woohoo!
So after about a half an hour, I decided I should get up to take a shower. You know, hygiene and all that. So I gently rolled onto my side. It hurt a little when I did that. Then I tried to push myself up, and oh my LANTA, something was very, very wrong. I tried pushing myself up with just my arms. I tried twisting my torso so I could put both my arms under me and get more power, all the while feeling like I had a fleet of microscopic Roman soldiers jabbing their spears into my spine.
Eventually the pain got so bad that I started crying a little bit, and at that point I called my dad, who was watching football in the basement. Once he got upstairs he told me to try moving in several different directions to see how we could get me up. Every single movement was AGONY. I cannot adequately describe how badly this hurt.
So at this point I'm sobbing and hysterical. Finally he gets me to roll (literally, just like flop over) onto my back, and he and my mom pulled me up to standing (this whole ordeal took about half an hour, by the way). Once I was standing, I couldn't breathe; I couldn't move; I couldn't speak; I just stood there gasping for air like a dumb fish. A big dumb fish. It was terrifying and unreasonably painful. Like, I cannot adequately get across just how much pain I was in.
Dad called the ER, and we drove down there (Side note: super proud of myself for being able to hobble to the car in my state). My parents are trying to ask me things in the car about where it hurts and all the things a concerned parent should ask, and I responded in two words or less, sounding like what I would imagine people sound like when they just got done running a marathon.
 |
| Dat hospital bracelet doe |
Anxiety is fun.
So what actually happened is that I tore a ligament between my iliac crest and sacrum, so the joint moved ever so slightly out of place and got all inflamed, and shit went down. You know the rest.
 |
| Dat joint doe |
I received two shots with three medications altogether that went into my muscles and made my arms quite sore.
 |
| Dat needle bruise doe |
 |
| Dat medication cocktail doe |
Because I'm 90.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
1st year vs. 2nd year Grad Students
Currently, I'm halfway through my second year of graduate school, which means I am 3/4 finished, which means I have one semester left until graduation.
I'm a little excited.
I've been reflecting on my time in graduate school and how much I've changed in such a short amount of time. To demonstrate this change, I've come up with several situations and the differences in how a first-year grad student would react vs. how a second-year student would react. Enjoy.
Presentations
1st year: How on earth am I supposed to fill 30 minutes?
2nd year: How on earth am I supposed to fit all of this information in
30 minutes?
Group Papers
1st year: Ugh, how annoying, I would rather just write it myself.
2nd year: Oh thank god, I only have to write a third
of this.
Grad school in general
1st year: I’m so happy to be in grad school!
2nd year: WHEN DOES IT END.
Mornings
1st year: I should probably look professional even when I’m in class,
you know, just in case.
2nd year: Do you think they’ll be able to tell these are my pajamas?
How important is it to wear a bra? How long has it been since I washed my hair?
Food
1st year: I should pack my lunch. It’s healthier and cheaper.
2nd year: A coffee and a cake pop is an acceptable meal, right?
Internships
1st year: Foundation practicum was pretty fun. I learned a lot.
2nd year: OH GOD. This could be my future job. Must act professionally. Don't fuck up. You could work here in six months. Keep it together. I am so hireable. LOOK AT HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO HIRE ME. PAY ME MONEY.
Alarms
1st year: Okay I need time to eat, get dressed, make myself look presentable...I’ll just set an alarm for an hour before
I have to leave.
2nd year: *snooze* *snooze* *snooze* Shit.
Networking
1st year: Everyone could be a potential connection! Go to all of the
events! Meet all of the people! Form many bonds!
2nd year: Oh, I'm so sorry, I can't go to that event. I'm super busy. *Puts on sweatpants* *Pours glass of wine* *Watches Netflix*
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