The good, the bad, and tonight

June 30

I wanted this travel blog to be about sharing all of my experiences with you. So I am going to share this one.

This is not going to be funny. Or fun. Or about enjoying my trip at all, actually.

Tonight is one of the worst nights of my life. In fact, it may be the worst.

I went to the flea market today, and it was pretty cool. I bought a few things and ate a good bratwurst and came back cause the heat was unbearable. 

And I've been sitting here at my house in Vienna with my fan since about 2 reading, doing homework, surfing the Interwebs, whatever. I also skyped with my parents.

I'm not sure what set me off, but after I skyped with my parents, I finished a book I've been reading, and I fell apart at the seams.

For those of my readers that have experienced a panic attack, which I know there are at least a few, this may be the worst I've had. So here is what I am feeling and experiencing, in no particular order:

I want to go home. I want to go home so badly it hurts. I miss my family and I miss my house and I miss America. I've been to Europe twice before for 14 days and never felt this, but the fact that this is a longer trip and that my family and the vast majority of my friends aren't here has made me feel severely homesick in only a week.

I'm afraid. I can't tell you what I'm afraid of, but I have this pit of fear deep in my stomach that is telling me to run, but I have nowhere to go, which makes me even more afraid.

I feel pathetic and defeated. I've been dealing with my anxiety for four years now, and it still cripples me this much. I feel like I've hit bottom and I'm going to stay there. 

I feel alone. I am literally alone right now, because everyone is traveling elsewhere right now, but I feel like I have no one to turn to. I've run up more than 100 dollars in phone bills just today, talking to my family and boyfriend, but none of them are here with me. 

I feel frustrated. I wanted to do this so badly, and I'm absolutely 100 percent miserable. I know that in the midst of a panic attack, it's a bad idea to make a judgment on your experience, but for the most part, I've been struggling with some aspect of anxiety the whole time I've been here. I'm also frustrated because I know that most of my thoughts are irrational, but I feel like I can't do anything to stop them. 

I feel like I am not going to make it through the night. I feel like I am going to die, which is absolutely ridiculous, but it's how I feel. I feel like I will panic all through the night, which is actually physically impossible, and that no one will be here to help me. A phone call can only do so much. My house mother's parents live downstairs and don't speak much English, so I honestly am stuck with myself.

I want my mommy and daddy, and I don't care how stupid or immature that makes me sound, because I do. I think that people always have those times, even when they're old and gray. 

I hate this place. I hate the lack of air conditioning, the dirty city (though the buildings are beautiful), the fact that they put vinegar on their salads, public transportation, crowds, and the fact that it is not Concord Hills in Knoxville, TN, where even if I panic, I know that I will be safe.

I do not feel safe here. I know rationally that there is nothing happening and I have nothing to be afraid of, but I feel unbelievably, constantly in danger.

I don't know what to do, but I thought maybe writing and sharing with you all would help somewhat. So I'm reaching out to you now, and I hate asking for help, but please, if you've struggled with any of this before, any coping strategies would be greatly appreciated. Like, I'm begging. 

So here is where things stand. I know that making decisions based on thoughts manifested in anxiety is not good, but since those seem to be the majority of my thoughts here, perhaps this is the choice I have to make. I have decided to get through the night (which I will, dammit, because no one has ever died of a panic attack and I'm not going to be the first), hang out tomorrow until people get back, go to class Monday and Tuesday, and see where I stand.

If I still feel like this, I am going home. I know you may think that I'm weak or that I should stick it out, but really, if I'm this miserable it will be bad for both my mental and physical health for me to stay here.  When I get anxious I have extreme difficulty eating, and I need to be well nourished for all of our tours and because I'll be walking around in such heat. It makes me sad, because if I want to come back to Europe in the future, I know that I would feel unable should I go home on this trip.

I wanted to have this experience, for better or for worse, but I have never felt worse in my life. 

So....yup. That's what's up. Please, please message me on facebook or comment or whatever with any help you may be able to give me. Calling is probably a bad idea...don't want another 100 dollars of talk time.

Condition the air, Europe: Travel blog 4

June 28-29

People of America (who read my blog), you are going to participate in a moment of silence now. That is not a request. Take a moment and thank whatever god you worship, or whoever invented air conditioning, for air conditioning. Just stop reading, and say, "Thank you, god (or air conditioning man) (or both) for this wonderful cooling device that is so common in America and which we take for granted. I appreciate you for your methods of de-hot-iffying when it is 105 degrees outside, and I am so grateful that I am not IN AUSTRIA, WHERE THERE IS NO AIR CONDITIONING EVER."

Did you do it? Did you take that moment and give thanks?

Don't read on until you've done it, because seriously, this should be added to the moments of silence they have at baseball games or after the Pledge of Allegiance in school.

Ich bin allein. I am alone. In a large house in Austria. And all of my roommates and my house mother have traveled away. Probably to a place with air conditioning, curse them.

So I went shopping today, on this huuuuge street filled with extremely expensive shops where I received a lemon candy from a man pretending to be a statue. I think it's ok, though, cause he only did it when I dropped a Euro in his little box.

A whole Euro. Everyone else gave him 50 cent pieces. I am a saint, it's true. That's two bathroom visits, people, TWO. I could pee myself because of my saintliness.

But anyway, the bus/subway ride to the city wasn't too terrible, cause it wasn't that hot yet. But then it hit like 98 in the city, where there are many people and lots of black asphalt to kindly reflect the boiling hot sun onto you. And I literally am surprised that I am alive right now. I didn't think I would make it. The subway ride back was bad, but then I got on the bus.

I want you to imagine, for a moment, that it is 98 degrees outside and you've been walking around all day. Got it? OK. Now imagine that you step onto a bus that is 110 degrees. Satan might be driving this bus. Actually, Satan might BE the bus, that's how hot it is. Now try and take a breath. YOU CAN'T. It burrrrrns you. And you're out of water. And all you have to fan yourself is a measly little map of Viennese subways.

How much does that suck??

The suck present in this situation cannot be measured. It is immeasurable.

Also, this Satan bus was packed with people who smelled like butthole. And I am the last stop.

Good times here in Vienna...

Bis später! Enjoy your air conditioning!

Zippy fingers: Travel blog 3

June 26-27

Everyone clap, because Kelly finally felt relatively anxiety free today thus far!! *clap clap clap*

Huzzah! So umm...this whole travel blog thing might end up being way more boring than I thought it would be, cause here's the thing: I'm pretty much just studying. I mean, I know it's study abroad, but I figured I would be going around the city doing stuff after class every day. But after two hours of German class, and two hours of walking around for our culture class, I just want to come back to my home here in Wien. And by the time we get here, it's 6:30 or 7 because of our commute. So I eat dinner, do my homework, shower, and go to bed. (Ich esse Abendessen, mache meine Hausaufgauben, dusche, und gehe ins Bett. For those of you wondering what that is in German....maybe no one. But now you know.)

Also, after our culture class, they tend to just like, leave us to fend for ourselves wherever we visit. So they take us out to some museum like 80 years away and then say, "Ok Tschüss! Have fun finding your way back!" So it takes extra time to get home. Grrrr.

AND. For our culture class, we have to write a paper for every place we go, right? But for some reason, for half (maybe more) of our class days, we have TWO culture excursions. One at 9:30 a.m. (which means getting up at 7, yippee) and one at 3. And we have to write papers for both of them. Kill me. Those are going to be the longest days ever. I asked my teacher about it today and she said we're doubling up because we have two free afternoons at the end of the trip. Which is great, but we double up like eight times, not two.

I know you're a German professor, but come on, that math does NOT add up.

Ok well this was fun I guess. Buddy and I went zum Supermarkt to buy food, and on the way there, I saw all this asphalt that was kind of bubbling up from cracks in the ground. And I figured they were just bumps in the sidewalk.

But then we got in the store and I couldn't freakin' walk cause I was slipping all over the damn place. And I finally looked at the bottom of my shoes and saw this:

Guess the asphalt wasn't dry.

We also ate at this tiiiiny little place that had Döner Kebaps, which is like meat and veggies and goodness. Kinda like a Viennese gyro. And I got mine in a little box, and we were talking to the owner in German about how we were here studying German in Vienna, and that we loved the city, etc. And he brought us out a basket of fresh, warm bread that normally cost like four Euros! For FREEE! How awesome is that?? He was soooo sweet.

Sooooo good.

In the city, one of my roomies and I found this amaaaaazing place to eat lunch during our break between classes called Operncafe (cause it's across the street from die Staatsoper, AKA the state opera house). And I am going to eat there every day until I try all of their sandwiches and tortes and gelatto. For the love of god it is so good. And the lady is beginning to like us : ) and she speaks to us in German and we speak to her in German. Heck yes. Practice makes perfect.

Eatin' mah Walnut Torte!!

Ok. This is dumb. The other day before culture class, I zipped my finger in my purse. That is not a joke. I was zipping it up, and it just zipped the skin right off my knuckle.

Seriously, like, what is my life.

Seriously, who does that happen to?? Gahhh. It hurts like crazy and bled for a billion years. Even in Wien, Österreich, I cannot escape the ridiculous things that happen to me.

Aight folks, it's 10:30 here and I need ta go to bed so I can be up at the ass crack of dawn. Bis später, meine Freunde! Ich vermisse dich, und Knoxville, und ICE IN MY WATER.

K bye.

You got a sorority tattoo?!?! Travel blog 2

June 24-25

So, when we left off, I was freakin' out and whatnot. 

It continues a bit. Ach so! Like, every morning I'm waking up with that same dread and fear. Thus far it's gotten better as the day goes on, but I hope that eventually it'll just go away completely...

Boo, anxiety, BOOOO! I seriously called my mom at 1:30 a.m. her time cause I couldn't even handle it this morning. This for real needs to stop.

But ANYWAY. Good things!!

So we went to the Donau Inselfest, which is this HUUUUGE music festival on Donau Insel, an island near Vienna. And for me and my roommate here (who I will refer to henceforth as buddy, due to the buddy system we have in place) it was an hour and a half ride to get there. Like, we live in the boondocks of Vienna.

But there was this creepy death metal band there...and 1) The singer HAD to have made a pact with the devil for his voice to sound like it did, 2) Despite said pact, he was hot as helllll, and 3) He now owns more bras than I do. See photo: 

Seriously, do you see them all?? What does he do with them?

Also, there was a techno "band" which was actually just a DJ booth on a giant stage that played techno songs, and there were two dancers in front who just yelled, "EVERYBODY LET ME SEE YOU JUMP!!" in English and jumped/danced along. Weird.

Do you see them both at the front with their hands up but doing nothing else? Yeah, that was the whole show.

Also, there was one of those mechanical bulls, but for some reason unbeknownst to, um, anyone, they had placed a reindeer mask over it....So there was that.

Seriously, like what is that?

And then buddy and I left the festival at about 9 p.m. so we could get back to the house and shower and get to bed, because we had to be at the Institute at 8:30 this morning.

That is what we planned on.

However, devil-possessed death metal man must have passed on a curse to me (probably because I was taking a video of him and laughing....) because we couldn't find the entrance to the damn U-Bahn. Buddy and I were unaware that we had come out of the other side of the building when we got to the festival, and thought it was on the side directly next to the island. BECAUSE THAT MAKES SENSE. So we walked allllll the way across this like two-mile long bridge, until we found some randos who, thank jebus, were English, and they told us where the station was. And it was a billion miles away. But we got there.

And then we got to the bus stop, and I noticed it was beginning to lightning. And I knew it was supposed to rain today, but apparently, it started yesterday. Cause we got on the bus and the skies opened and rained like we'd pissed them off. And when we got off the bus, it was still pouring, and we had no choice but to walk back in it.

Dunno if you can tell how SOAKED we are, due to the lighting, but it was bad.

Lovely.

So today!

Turns out our classes are from 12-5, which is phenomenal, because I can sleeeeeep. Until ten. And then I begin my commute. But the Institute is beautiful, albeit a bus and train ride away. I am NOT going to miss public transit...

Also, for some reason pretty much all the toilets smell. I mean, in America, our public bathrooms smell, but ALL the bathrooms smell super jank here...it's like the toilets don't flush properly. Dumb. 

Ok last thing. Funniest thing in my life. I was talking to one of the guys on the trip today, who is my fave person ever cause he's so dang funny, and he was like, "Hey you have a tattoo!" And I was like, yeah it's Greek. And he asked what the letters were, and I told him. And he waits for a second and goes, "Wait a minute....did you seriously get a sorority tattoo??" And I said, "Oh, darling. Greek as in the language." Best misinterpretation ever.

Ummmm...I think that's all for now. Keep your fingers crossed for me that my anxiety stops bugging me!!

Bis spaeter meine Freunden!!

D-DAY! Travel Blog 1

June 22 into 23

I debated what I wanted to do with this blog when I transformed it temporarily into my traveling blog as opposed to my humor-based postings. And I decided that I'm just going to kind of share whatever happens and be open and honest about my experiences. And if it's funny, great. And if not, then whatevs.

So today. Or, yesterday. June 22. I woke up at like 5 a.m. and couldn't go back to sleep cause my mind was going a million miles a minute. All I had to do was pee, but once I was up, my brain was like, "Oooo no no no, don't go back to sleep! Think of all of the things that could go wrong, over and over again. Also, keep going through a mental checklist to see if you have everything. You do? Are you SURE? Do it again."

GOD. So, I didn't quite get my eight hours. And then that whole day I kept going back and forth between excited and nervous. And when we finally got to the airport, I was so so so pumped, and then as I was saying good-bye to family and boyfriend, this horrible dread of fear came over me, and I started crying like an idiot. And then I cried through security, and then I cried at the gate, and then we switched gates, and then I stopped crying for a while because I found the other guy on the trip that had the same flight as I did.

And then we started talking to this German girl who had just finished a five-month study abroad program and had had this horrible airport experience of having her flight canceled and spending the night in D.C. and then driving to ATL. Poor girl. But I learned from her that German schools go pretty much all year, and have six weeks off in summer, two in fall, two in winter, and two in spring. Sounds legit to me.

And then they started boarding and that's when the panic really set in. I can't describe to you exactly what it feels like when I have a panic attack, but it's pretty goddamn terrifying. And so I'm sitting there crying. AGAIN. And I texted family and boyfriend and I was like, ok encourage me. NOW. And they all did. Thank god for them. And I got on the plane. And I am so so so proud that I did not get off because I tell you, that's allllll my mind was telling me to do. I was so afraid.

But then I met Tristan.

When I sat down, I said hi to the guy sitting in the window seat (21A). And he kind of mumbled something I couldn't understand, and I was like, "Crap, I can't tell if he's German or not." And I sat there for like ten minutes and finally said, "Sind Sie Deutscher? (Are you German?)" And he hesitates and goes, "Ich....lerne Deutsch.(I'm learning German)" And I was like, "Oh, thank god you're American!" Ane he said, "Thank god I was so nervous for a second!"

And his name was Tristan and he is my new best friend. Seriously. He's awesome. We were also the same person. Well, sorta. He's 15, a rising sophomore from New Jersey, his dad is German (hence his flying to Frankfurt, visiting his dad's friends) and his mom is Korean, he plays violin and likes classical music, he is allergic to everything just like I am, isn't a huge fan of chocolate just like I'm not, plays tennis, and if he's not weird and crazy like I am, he at least laughed at me and played along instead of staring at me like I'm a psycho. Also, we both love rage comics. It was super cool. So, my extreme crippling fear turned into a new friend. We took a picture as we were landing in Frankfurt:

New BFF!!

So, all in all, I'm really proud that I made it here, no matter how many pills I had to take, or how much I couldn't sleep. It's a huge step for me. Studying abroad is something I've always wanted to do, as foreign cultures interest me, but now that I'm dealing with my anxiety, it's also become a kind of radical way to say, "Hey, yeah, I have this stupid and annoying disorder that messes with me frequently, but it doesn't have to control me, and I can do something that scares me. I can."

Hell, I stayed on the plane, didn't I?

The good news is I do still have a face

I have a story to tell you. Most likely the last before this becomes a blog of traveling.

So, before I moved in with roommate and suitemates and we all became bffls, I lived in a much different environment, with a girl who we'll call BWCM, for reasons that are irrelevant.

Now, in this room, and indeed in the room I moved into after, I had a great many things hanging on the wall. Photos, posters, cork boards, and also a star light that hung from the ceiling. Sometimes, I would get nervous that the star would fall on me in the night and land on my eyes and blind me with its pointy points of pointiness. Another example of my irrational thinking, I know.

But one fateful night, all my fears came true. It all started at about 4 a.m., when I woke up to the sound of something ripping and my giant poster of the Eiffel tower fell on my face. So I took it down. Then I lay there, trying not to think about how incredibly heavy the framed pictures above my head to the left were. And then I heard more ripping, and one of the framed pictures to the right of my head started coming off. And I just took it all the way off and put it on my desk. 

Then I'm trying to go back to sleep and the freaking star fell down. And it did hit me in the face, but even though it's pointy, it is in fact made of paper and thus no damage was done. Well, no physical damage. But the star falling scared the bejeezus out of me and I went on a rampage, taking down all of my pictures. Except the really heavy ones, which would just NOT come off. But that didn't ease my mind at all. Because the command strips could just be messing with me and they won't pull off, but they would fall in the night and break my nose.

And after all of this, I couldn't go back to sleep. Probably because my adrenaline was still going. And so I got up at 6:30ish and had two extra hours before I had to leave for class so I did mah hurr and mah makeup all purdy and went to class tired, but lookin' gooooood.

Here is the room I shared with BWCM, with all of the posters and pictures still hanging...before that terrible night of terrors that were terrible...

Allergic to the earth

Here is where I tell you about an exciting adventure in my life called being allergic to everything. Don't leave just yet—I promise it's funnier than it seems like it would be. First of all, please enjoy this picture of an example of my allergies. This is a reaction I had when a tiny tiny little bit of my shot serum got on my arm:

It blew up real big. The smaller square at the bottom is the actual shot site, which is a pretty big reaction in and of itself, but the giant square at the top outlines the reaction to the serum. It's kinda hard to see cause it was mostly just swollen and the redness had gone away at this point, but it took up half my upper arm. ANYWAY, just an example of the tragedy of allergies that I deal with.

So now the story begins...

I had this period of probably two years in high school when I was sick all the time. Literally, I just felt poopy for months at a time. And I would consistently lose my voice. Which is an issue, because I was in chorus, in plays, and in musicals. And after testing me for all the sicknesses, my dad was like, allergies? So we went to the allergy clinic.

Now, I'd had an allergy test once before when I was younger, and it was these rows of little needles and they pressed like five into my back at once. Which wasn't too too bad, cause at least it was over quick. And the needles were little. And I was only slightly allergic to cats and grass.

But hell opened up and swallowed me when I walked into this clinic. Shots are not my favorite, and by that I mean as an adult (pre-allergy shots) I would still get teary eyed whenever I got them. So, this hell involved 65 individual shots in my arms. No multi-mini-needle back pressers. No, no. Not this day. This was a day of terror.

So like, halfway through my second arm, I started feeling really funny. I was dizzy and felt like I was going to simultaneously puke and pass out, which would probably not be a good combination. And the nurse was like, "Lay back honey," and I was like, "What are you, crazy? Must. Keep. Self. Upright." But I ended up becoming semi-conscious in the chair and thus did end up laying back, and the next thing I know they're holding ammonia salts under my nose.

Yayyyyyy.

And then I had to go back to school in time for algebra class.

BUT not before the doctor came in and said, "Well...I do have some good news. (Not the best way to start a convo, doc) We're gonna get you all better. The bad news is, we tested you for 65 things, and you are NOT allergic to five."

So that was that. I went back to class with giant, red, bumpy arms. Super attractive.

And I was severely (not deathly, but pretty badly) allergic to trees/cats/dogs. Which is wonderful because I live with a dog and four cats. None of whom are allowed in my room anymore. And trees are, you know, everywhere. Maybe I should live in the desert.

So I got six shots a week for about a year, three twice a week, and now I'm FINALLY down to two shots every three weeks. Which is a massive improvement, because of my aforementioned fear. 

However, despite all my shots and daily doses of allergy pills, allergies still knock me on my ass at least once a semester. This past semester, I honestly thought I had the flu. I had a low-grade fever and felt nauseated and achy and gross and just lay in my bed and only got up to make soup. And when I finally went to the doctor, he was like, "Um, nothing is wrong with you. Here's some allegra. Take it."

And it CHANGED MY LIFE. Seriously, that shit was nuclear. It was a combo of allergy medicine and sudafed and it was 24 hours. I felt like a superhero. At that point, I could have joined the Avengers...as...The Girl Who Was Always Sick But Not Anymore.

So...um....moral of the story....if you feel like crap, take nuclear allegra, and you'll probably feel better. Unless it's like, the chicken pox. Then you are just up a creek without a paddle. Or a canoe. Or a flotation device. Metaphorically.

Remember that one time...?

So, as some of you may remember, I wrote a column a little more than a year ago about the terrible ways that people tend to clothe themselves. And I wanted to bring this up for a couple of reasons. First: even though I know everyone that reads this are my friends and understood the humor, I just want to set the record straight about what the dang thing was about and debunk some myths. Second: I wanted to share with you this amazing email that I received from a man named…we’ll call him…Cherry. Third: I wanted to share some experiences surrounding the column with you lovely folks that you might not have known about. Anyway, you can find the article here: theplainsman.com, or if you google my name. That’s hilarious, googling my name.

By the way, this is on my mind because I finally made a memoriam of the column. I’ve wanted to do it forever and include the column and all of the things surrounding it. Picture: 

The reason it’s on an H is I’m spelling out “Laugh,” individually crafting each letter in a different way because I’m so damn creative. And the last letter is a decoupage of all the column stuff I could fit on there.

PART ONE: MYTHS

Myth #1: The column was an attack on the Greek community.

Truth: There was less than a paragraph regarding sorority shirts with frockets, and a single section (out of four) that addressed frat boy dress. That is all. If the Greeks were the ones that got offended about the article in general, then that just means that they’re the ones who dress that way. Not my fault. 

Myth #2: It was unacceptable to publish such heresy in a newspaper.

Truth: It’s a column. NOT an article. Read: it is opinion. So there’s that.

Myth #3: I took a stab at anorexia.

Truth: I was taking a stab at the unnecessary attention girls pay to their figure, and the pressure to be thin is even higher in a sorority. Anorexia isn’t funny. Counting calories is a little funny.

Myth #4: I’m a bitter girl that didn’t get a bid.

Truth: I didn’t rush. I just did not.

To conclude the myths section, I would like to say that I have NOTHING against sororities and fraternities. I care not if you are involved in them. I have tons friends in sororities and fraternities (even now, I might add). This was a column about clothes. CLOTHES. CLOOOOTHES.

PART TWO: CHERRY’S EMAIL

Ok, so here is the greatest email that I received. And believe me, I got a crap ton. This email, from a man named Cherry, was the funniest thing to ever appear in my inbox. So I have decided to share it with you, accompanied by some helpful corrections and comments, which are in red.

From: CHERRY

Date: Thu, 27 Jan 2011 18:58:31 -0600

To: ME

Subject: Kelllllyyyyyyy

         You honestly just suck at life. And I'm glad you're "peice (piece) of journalism" (column) was published, because it shows how much of an asshole you really are. That "peice (piece) of journalism" (column) was completely unprofessional (nay good sir, for it was merely opinion). I know you are trying to "throw your name out there" as a journalist (just trying to be funny), but the pictures on Facebook of you have already done that (my pictures put my name out there as a journalist?). Way to piss off half of the student body (not even 30 percent). The student body that makes Auburn, (there should not be a comma there) exactly what it is. 

        Did you not get a bid? (Nope. Cause I didn’t rush) Well it really isn't that hard, well, for most people (that’s not even a sentence). But most people aren't like you. Most people aren't arrogant assholes (good example of irony). Most people have friends (I have no friends *sarcasm*). Most people don't try to piss of the greek student body. (Not the goal) After reading your article (column), it screamed one word at me. INFERIOR. You're the girl that didn't get a bid (*sigh* didn’t rush). You're the girl that no one likes (The feedback I received was overwhelmingly positive). You are the girl, (again, comma splice) who wants so dearly to be like those girls rocking the nike shorts (Nike should be capitalized)(also, no). You are such an unprofessional journalist that I'll use some visuals to help you (what follows is words, not visuals. If I could see only in visuals, this would actually be extremely confusing for me).

FRATERNITY BOYS > YOU

SORORITY GIRLS > YOU

ME > YOU

MY DOG > YOU

MY PLEDGE PIN > YOU

THE DIRT ON THE BOTTOM OF MY FRAT ASS SPERRIES > YOU

          Oh Kelly, I'm sure you are crying right now (I was. From laughing), wishing you would have never done this (Are you kidding? I got like five job offers from legit newspapers. Guess I really am a horrible journalist...). No one likes you now (So many people agreed with me it was insane. One guy actually proposed). Well, no one liked you in the first place (false), but people who don't even know you, like me, well, they hate you too. As I conclude my email, you're (really?) portion about sunglasses and croakies made me think of one thing, one website that I, along with many other successful, well-rounded individuals thoroughly enjoy (here, I think well-rounded may refer to beer belly).

Some GDI walked up to me at the bar and asked why I had my sunglasses around my neck at one in the morning. I told him because I drink til the fucking sun comes up. TFM (How proud you must be, Cherry)

          Well Kelly, I hate to break it to you, but every single one of those frat boys that has croakies on is drunk as hell (…ok…why did you have to break that to me?). Sleeping through their classes, texting their slampieces, looking at their stocks, well you get the point (Again, such pride. Also, that was a fragment). While you try really hard to become a journalist one day, all of us are having the time of our lives. But the really sad part about it is that no matter how hard you try, we're happier (consistent drunkenness will do that to you), were (we’re) gonna make more money than you (doubtful, if you sleep through your classes), and were (we’re) better than you.

Your email screams Inferior. (I actually did not send Cherry an email)

My email screams Superior.

TFM

Wasn’t that enjoyable? Thanks for brightening my life, Cherry. I wish I’d had room to include that email on my H, but the other stuff pertained more to the column.

PART THREE: STUFF MOST PEOPLE DON’T KNOW ABOUT

I was asked in Fall semester of last year to do an interview. The email told me, and I quote, that the interviewers were from a “new student newpaper.” And I was like, aight. I’ve wanted to do an interview about this for a while.

Anyway, like halfway through the interview, the girls got super accusatory with their questions, and I felt really uncomfortable. And I asked them what newspaper this was for, and they told me it was for a Greek student newspaper. And they insisted they had told me that in their email, but I was like, “Listen, I have the email. You did not tell me.” So I left. I said, “You can publish this if you really want to, but I would prefer that you didn’t.” But of course they did. I thought about pressing charges, because they didn’t have my informed consent. INFORMED being the key word, because it is the legal responsibility of a reporter to tell the interviewee the title of the newspaper—or magazine, whatever—that he/she is from. But I didn’t press charges, because ultimately, their article made me look good, and the snarky comments they made them look bad. You can read it here: theodysseyonline

That was a really long blog post, but I never got the chance to really clear the air about any of the stuff that went down after my severely misinterpreted column. Bottom line: the column was a big fat sarcastic poke at the way people dress, and it was meant to be funny. I figured I’d offend some people, but I was NOT expecting death threats or entire websites dedicated to bashing me when they don’t even know me. People need to learn to take a joke!

But all in all, most messages I got were people telling me that they loved the column, and that was awesome. I have zero regrets. My only wish is that I had made my facebook private prior to all this…

Life at high altitude

So this past week, I spent a couple of days with my mom, my little brother, and two of his friends at my family's cabin in Gatlinburg, TN. Even though Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg and Dollywood are suuuuuper hokey, I always have an excellent time. You know me, though, and no experience ever happens in my life without its "WTF seriously" moments.

WTF seriously moment 1: 

I forgot all of my medication. Like, all of it. Birth control, anxiety pills, allergy pills, everything. So, after two days without all that, I felt like utter shit. I got up Friday, felt dizzy and groggy and sick to my stomach and proceeded to lay on the couch all day until we left. And driving in the car I felt totally fine, because the world actually WAS moving, and it wasn't just in my head. Lord.

WTF seriously moment 2:

I had a "dream"that a spider fell from the ceiling onto my pillow. I am deathly, deathly afraid of spiders. Like, I'm a level or four past arachnophobia. It's bad. And this "dream" seemed very, VERY real. So anyway, there was this shot of horror and disgust that ran rampant through my body and I thought, Must. Get. To other side of bed. To turn lamp on. And find spider. And kill it. Can't turn the lamp on over here. Don't want to be near the spider. 

So I fumbled my way across this king-sized bed to a lamp that doesn't actually exist. There is no lamp on that side of the bed. And so I'm groping the bed post looking for the goddamn switch and it's not there. Because it's not actually a lamp. And I am FUH-REAKING OUT at this point. Like, hyperventilating. And I get halfway across the headboard before I realize that the lamp does not hang over the bed, so I am not touching the lamp, and in fact there is no lamp, so I am touching the headboard... This is the first point that I realize that I'm awake. I literally had crawled across the bed. That was not a dream. And somehow, all the pillows were on the floor. All of them. They were on the bed when I went to sleep (45 minutes earlier. I should have been in deep sleep...WTF). So I got to the overhead light switch and turned it on and spent a good half hour looking for the dream spider. I did not sleep well that night.

WTF seriously moment 3: 

Turkeys. There were just turkeys outside our cabin. Here is a picture. 

It's just a fucking turkey. Walking around on top of a mountain like it's no big deal. He had a couple of turkey buddies but they had run ahead.

WTF seriously moment 4: 

As I said, Dollywood is a hokey place. Full of rednecks and bald eagles in a cage, etc. But really, Dollywood? A TWELVE-POUND pizza?? And I thought the pizza slices at the Village were big...but these bastards were a pound each:

Also, there was a thing called the "Twelve-pound challenge" where if you and a friend can eat an entire pizza in an hour, you get a season pass. That's it. One measly season pass, for what I'm sure would be the worst 24 hours of your life. Because let me tell you, that shit is greasy.

Also, I don't know if this counts as a moment, but my brother's friends are rather large men. So is my brother. So I, at 5'7", walked around Dollywood all day with a football player, lacrosse player, and former swimmer, all of whom are more than 6'2". Maybe I looked like a lady pimp. Cool. 

T-minus 14 days

So...in case you didn't remember, I'm studying abroad in Austria this Summer. It's happening. It's actually happening two weeks from today. AHHH! I'm freakin' out. Like I'm super excited, but super nervous too.

Anyway, I think I mentioned this before, but just wanted to remind you lovely beautiful readers of mine that my blog of hilarity will become a blog of travel starting June 22 and will resume normal hilarity on or around July 30, depending heavily on jet lag. Which hits me harder coming back from Europe for some reason...

But anyway, if you only like me for my funny (in which case YOU ARE NOT A REAL FRIEND) (But I still love you cause you read my blog) then I totes understand if you don't want to read my travel adventures.

But let me tell you folks, it will be full of epicosity, to quote Toby Turner. And if you want to follow my super awesome fun time (but still studying German!) life in Vienna, Munich, Prague, Budapest, and Salzburg, it's happening. I'ma document it. With lotsa pictures. 

Good. Ok well...that's all I wanted to say. Don't worry, I will have more blogs of funny before I leave. Promise! : D

Solstice?

My last name is Tsaltas. It is Greek, but I am only a quarter Greek. Three quarters of the time, though, people mispronounce my last name.

Mistake number one: Solstice.

How does that even happen? I know I don't have a normal last name, but come on. There is clearly no "s" after the "l." That is a simple literacy problem, not a difficult last name problem. I think Solstice is probably the most common way people mess up my name...sad.

Mistake number two: Tuh-saltas. 

I understand this one at least a little more. Because there is a "t" there. I get it. But it doesn't actually take up a whole syllable. Speaking of that...

Mistake number three: Saltas. 

The "t" is not silent. My dad always says, "It sounds like the word 'it's' without the 'i.'" I guess a lot of time if there is an extraneous-looking consonant at the beginning of a word, it's silent. But Tsaltas isn't one of them, so stop leaving the "t" off of my name! Poor lil consonant : (

Mistake number four: Saltazz. 

As in, rhymes with jazz. Just, no.

People also frequently misspell it, most of the time on awards when it is engraved into metal. So I have an array of things that say, "Tsaltis," or "Saltis," or "Saltas." People are going to think they're not my awards! Curses.

Restaurant reservations, etc., prove exceedingly difficult as well. Sometimes we'll just use first names. Because we're so damn tired of spelling our name, only to hear, "Wait what?" Yes, there is a "t" AND an "s." And prescriptions...Walgreens should know by now, but there is still the occasional mistake where they'll say, "We don't have a prescription for that name." And even though we already said, "Tsaltas, T-S," we have to repeat it. And lo, they have found the prescription! 

Anyone else have a difficult last name? I know boyfriend's name is pretty intimidating as well. And one of Suitemate's. Share yo stories with meh, friends!

PS: I've made it super easy to follow this blog with Email updates!! I didn't realize that you had to like make a profile to follow me. So check the sidebar to enter your email and find out when I post! I also link on my facebook, if you're friends with me, my twitter @ktsalt, and my tumblr generalmelon.tumblr.com.