Moments that change your whole life...

Hello dear readers, I'm sorry for my radio silence as of late. Life has been happening and things like social networking have been falling on the back burners.

Here's what's been up: I had a major fiasco with the bank last week. I went to deposit some money into my savings account and the teller said the account didn't exist. I was, obviously, confused and asked her to double check because a year ago I had put $270 into my savings account. She did and said there was no account and no $270. My father took off of work and came to the bank where we spoke to a manager about what happened to my account and, more importantly, my money. She and her own manager did some research and discovered that my account had been deactivated 2 months after my deposit for inactivity... and worse, that the deposit had never been registered.

I, in my ignorance, had shredded the original receipt of the deposit... so I had no way of tracking where my money had gone. I called the bank where I made the original deposit and they couldn't find it. They offered to turn it over to their research department but that would cost $25 an hour and I might end up owing more than I lost.

So, basically, I lost $270 due to a teller's mistake and my own stupidity. I learned my lesson, though. Always, always keep bank receipts. I made a new savings account and I'm slowly rebuilding my nest egg.

The worst thing, though... the worst thing is that on Sunday my father got in a wreck. He was exhausted from getting hardly any sleep, working, stress, and the heat of the day... and on his way home fell asleep at the wheel--for just a second, and a second is all it takes--and crashed into a concrete enforced telephone pole. His truck was totaled and he spent a night in the hospital with a concussion, bruised lungs, stitches in his lip and elbow, and other contusions.

He's recovering at home now. He's very sore and has a hard time moving around (he hurt his bad knee and his driving leg is messed up, too) and can't catch his breath because of the bruises to his lungs and diaphragm. Luckily he has no broken bones and no major internal trauma. *SEE EDIT.

God was with him that day. It could have been so much worse. I saw photos of the truck and honestly... honestly it looks like it could have killed him. The insurance agent thought he died when she came to claim the truck and saw the damage. He's so fortunate to be alive and relatively okay.

So... that's what's been taking up my time and my energy as of late. I work a lot (well, maybe not this week since I'm going to be helping mom out at home) so I never know when I'll be updating but never fear, dear readers, I'm still here.

EDIT:// 02 JUNE:

Pardon my language, but how in the FLYING FUCK does someone miss a GOD DAMN CRACKED STERNUM on a chest x-ray?! WHAT THE FUCK. The ED doctors missed it on Sunday. HOW DO THEY MISS IT? The x-ray technician took a follow-up x-ray today and basically said "Yeah, he has a cracked sternum, any idiot could see that" and then said "I've never seen this injury on a living person before."

Yeah. The doctors missed something that a professional x-ray person ONLY EVER SEES ON DEAD PEOPLE BECAUSE IT KILLED THEM. Ugh. They can't do anything about it, either, because of the risk to his already damaged lungs. Their solution is to just have Dad take it easy for 6-8 weeks and come in for regular follow-up x-rays.

I'm still baffled as to how they missed it.

My father is very, very lucky to be alive.

And now for a religious lesson taken from the author's comments of this deviation (http://nayzak.deviantart.com/art/I-love-Jesus-pbuh-211180882) because he says it best himself:

"Assalaamu alaikum[Peace be to you],

I saw one Photo of an Islamic T-shirt of Jesus -peace be upon him- and it gave me the idea to make this drawing. and explain a little (to non-Muslims and especially Christians) how we view Jesus -peace be upon him- in Islam

Position of Jesus -peace be upon him- in Islam:

*Jesus is called Isaa عيسى -peace be upon him- in Arabic.

*Islam is the only non-Christian faith, which makes it an article of faith to believe in Jesus -peace be upon him-. No Muslim is a Muslim if he does not believe in Jesus -peace be upon him-.

*Muslims believe that he was one of the mightiest Messengers of Allah (God).

*Muslims believe that he was born miraculously, without any male intervention, which many modern day Christians do not believe (not all christians. but many)...

*Muslims believe he was the Messiah (translated Christ). in Arabic Massih.

*Muslims believe that he gave life to the dead with God’s permission.

*Muslims believe that he healed those born blind, and the lepers with God’s permission.

*One may wonder to know that Jesus -peace be upon him- is mentioned 25 times by name in the holy Qur’an while Prophet Mohammed -peace be upon him- is mentioned only 5 times.

*Even The Qur’an has a whole Chapter named ‘Maryam’ (Mary) in respect of The Mother of Jesus -peace be upon them both-. No other chapter in Qur’an has been named on a woman (even prophet Mohammed's mother, wives or daughters!). This respect given to Mary is not even found in the Christian Bible (no book in the Bible is named after Mary). Mary, the mother of Jesus, is mentioned more in the Qur'an than in the entire New Testament.

*the Qur'an tells us that Mary, the mother of Jesus -peace be upon them both- is the greatest woman who ever lived. she is chosen above the women of all nations.

*Muslims believe in the second coming of Jesus -peace be upon him- and that he will fill the world with justice and goodness.


I hope that was beneficial,

I love Jesus (peace be upon him)

Wassalaamu alaikum"

Stay safe,
That⊗neChick

Sad Moments

Sorry I haven't updated at all lately. Life's been... well... not so good. Here's what's up:

Background info: my mother's mother (my Nana) died one year ago yesterday. Now, my mother's father is in the hospital. He has 10% heart function, congestive heart failure + hypertension, his carotid arteries are 80-90% blocked, has COPD + emphysema and now he has pneumonia. He's on antibiotics but he can't breathe without 100% oxygen and still had a hard time breathing even with the O2 on. Basically he's an arrhythmia away from passing on. The next heart attack, no matter how minor, will kill him. He has a DNR order on his chart, too. At this point it's not a matter of if he will pass, its when.

We are also on the opposite coast. He's in California. We are 3000+ miles away. We can't be there for him. The family who is out there is my clinically depressed aunt and my two uncles. One of which doesn't show emotion and the other is a drug addict. We always suspected he was, but we only recently found evidence of his... habits. My mother isn't jumping to conclusions (it's her brother, after all) and says it might be his girlfriend's paraphernalia but he's guilty until proven innocent in my book. Needless to say, my granddad doesn't have a very stable support system out there.

My father's father is having his own issues. His cancer--multiple myeloma--is back and he isn't yet a candidate for another bone marrow replacement. He lives just 15ish minutes away, though, so it's not the same as my mother's father who is beyond our reach.

I'm trying to stay strong despite all of this. It's difficult when my rock--John--is 400 miles away. I'm trying to focus on the good things right now. My sister and I sent my mother's father flowers and he loved them. I talked to him on the phone (he sounds so awful) and he asked when me and John are getting married. He was actually disappointed when I said it won't be for a long while--we're both still students, after all.

I also have a job now. I'm a fill-in nanny for my dad's coworker. I'll be watching her 10 month old little girl when her regular nanny is unavailable. His coworker (who shall be henceforth called the Mommy) is a full-time student as well as active duty in the army. Her hubby is deployed and her regular nanny's hubby is getting deployed soon. I'm still looking for flexible--preferably evening--employment elsewhere (Petsmart, Target, Food Lion, etc) but it's slow going. I'm also starting my summer gym class on this Tuesday. It'll be 2x a week (Tues + Thurs) from 8-9am which is really nice because it won't be hot that early.

I've been suffering from lack of caffeine--much to my sister's delight--so I'm even more stressed than usual. Plus, at around 2pm I just suddenly shut down. I literally can't stay awake. I've got no idea how I'm going to fix that but I'm sure it'll stop once my body is used to being without a regular dose of my favorite stimulant (coffee!). Or that's what I'm hoping anyway.

So that's what's going on. I'll try to update when I can. I've been keeping myself occupied so I don't have to think about much so if I'm super late in replying please forgive me.

Stay safe,
-That⊗neChick

A million little moments...

Something about reading makes me want to write. I'm not sure what it is, I just feel the overwhelming desire to get words on paper. Text on screen.

I've been listening to Vienna Teng a lot as of late. Her voice is so haunting.

I miss John. Sometimes things get so lost between words and text, speech and screen. I want to share everything with him. My thoughts and feelings and I want to have a conversation with him like we used to. Talk about real things, outside of us. Ideas, people, places... the future. When did we stop sending letters? When did I stop writing my heart out to him? I take it for granted that I can text him all day and skype him at night.

We speak in texts and text and yet we don't talk about anything substantial. No more late-night chat sessions and PM'ing until one of us just had to go to bed. God, I miss it. How do I revive it? I want him back, I want his mind. His words. Not just his love, not just his acceptance. I don't want "Okay sweetheart" I want a discussion!

It's my fault, though. The fact that the discussions went away. They went away when my feelings surfaced and bubbled and dissolved into I love, I love, I love you over and over.

Don't misunderstand: I do love him still. I love him more than anything. I just want the old aspects of our original friendship back--before the "I love you"s muddled our thoughts.

He is so intelligent, and so am I, and I miss using that intelligence when talking to him. Do my parents have those kinds of discussions? Did they ever? Did they lose them, too?

I don't know. I wish he was here. I could hold his face in my hands and feel the warmth that radiates from him... we could talk. Really talk the way you only can when you're in real life and not on the other side of a screen. I want to tell him about everything I'm learning and hold his hands and really see his smile and go on ice cream or coffee dates and just connect.

Connect our hearts and our minds. I want to take him everywhere. New York, Monterey, the Outer Banks, everywhere I've been and everywhere I've never been.

I hate being so far apart.


I wish I could read to him.


Stay safe,
-That⊗neChick

Relived Moments

So, I'm alive. Barely.

I've done some math, and while it may not be my best subject, I'm certain that my calculations have not failed me.

My two lowest grades in microbiology lab will be dropped, pulling my current 69 up to a 75--which, on the 10 point scale that my university uses, is a well-earned C. Music is still a bit dismal, since it's a 71... an incredibly low C, but still a C nonetheless. After the discussion board gets graded and once I take my final, that C will likely become a low B.

Other than that, my likely grade in biochemistry is a B, with an A in the lab, and an A or B in microbiology lecture depending on if I'm pleased with my current 88 or take the final to see if I can manage an A on it. In sociology I'm still confused on if I have a B or not, as my math seemed incorrect when I calculated my grade. Once my professor e-mails me back I'll know for sure.

Stay safe,
That⊗neChick

Panicked Moments

I feel ill, cold tendrils of dread wrapping tightly around my chest--constricting me, making it hard to breathe--my heart beating in a frenzied rhythm behind my ribs. My hands and feet are cold, vaguely numb; I can feel the hum of adrenaline running through my veins. I'm only barely keeping panic at bay, silencing thoughts with drawings, studying, and fan fiction. I prowl the Help With Life forum on deviantART, because even if I cannot help myself, maybe I can still help others.

I don't feel right. I don't feel well. In all honesty, I am not either of those things. It's as if I am lying askew across the parallel lines of the universe. John keeps texting me and I can hardly suppress my irritation at it. The constant buzzing of my phone is setting me further on edge. I wish I could just tell him Leave me alone. I don't want to talk. I don't want to text. I don't even want to try. Just let me be, so I can take solace in the silence. But that would be mean, and even if I did say it, he could never leave it at that. He would fret and worry and try to comfort me, even though that's the last thing I want.

All I want is for this blasted year to be over. I want to be done with these classes, done with barely treading water. I feel selfish for struggling in my classes. I have friends with 4.0's and much harder classes, yet I'm getting a D in music? Microbiology is understandable--not that I would ever forgive myself if somehow, I don't pass--but music? I don't even know why I'm doing so poorly, other than a bit of tone-deafness. I have to pass ALL of my classes this semester to truly be accepted into CLSC, since my current status is conditional. I might just kill myself if I am barred from my future on account of a godforsaken music class.

My head hurts, I haven't been sleeping much lately. I feel distracted. I am distracted. I'm hoping my Concert Report was passable. I'm hoping to blow my final out of the water (can I at least get a C in this class? That's a bit less shameful than a D). I'm hoping I did my case study correctly. I'm hoping I did well on my final.

I'm worrying that my Concert Report was terrible, that I will do poorly on my final. I'm worrying that I will fail that class. I'm worrying that I got a 50 on my case study, and that I failed my final. I'm worrying that I will get an email saying I was kicked out of the program, and to try again next year. Only there won't be a next year because I might just die. My family will be so disappointed... my friends wouldn't want to associate with such a failure... John would leave me because who would marry someone with no future... I'll be alone. Rejected in every possible way.

I can't stop worrying, because if I do what would happen? Nothing is certain right now. I need answers and I don't have them. I need to consider every possibility. I need to gain control, despite how my life seems to be escaping me like smoke on the wind. I am scared. More scared than I have ever been. When I was failing general chemistry, I knew I could still do a grade replace. It would not be the end of the world if I did not pass. Now everything is different.

All of these feelings are pulling me down. I feel like I have weights strapped to me. I am weary and a part of me simply wants to curl up and hide away, to go back to a time when I was on top of the world and happy. To run back to a time when I wasn't scared all the time, or forcing a smile on my face or turning my fears into anger that I accidentally unleash on those who least deserve it.

Part of me craves comfort, but another part of me needs solitude. I want to talk to my mom, John, my friends... but I also want to shove them away. I'm torn and my adrenal glads just keep pumping out norepinephrine... but I can't run from this. So I worry instead.

Stay safe,
That⊗neChick

Educational Moments

I want to share something I learned today in World Religions. We just finished with the history of Islam (and what a history it is) and we covered a rather hot button topic in class. You've probably heard of it before, the news likes to toss this word around:

Jihad.

It's a pretty scary word for most people. They conjure images of holy wars, 9/11, and the war on terror.

In reality, the word is grossly misused by both the media and terrorist groups.

It all started out after Mohammad's guardian and uncle, Abu-Tali died. Mohammad had no father, and thus no other male guardian to protect him. He and his followers lived in Mecca at the time and the people of Mecca did not like Mohammad at all. So, he and his followers went North to Medina. While in Medina, Mohammad and his group made a living in the already well-established community doing "camel raids" for people. Eventually they got very good at it and were able to make a name for themselves, and prove they weren't people to be messed with. They often raided camels going to Mecca--taking great care to not kill or hurt anyone.

Well, the people of Mecca got pretty sick of their shenanigans and started fighting back. Hard. The Muslims went to Mohammad and were all "Hey! They're retaliating against us! Our people are dying. Can we do anything about this? Killing is wrong!" So Mohammad asked God what to do. According to Mohammad, God said that they could fight back... under certain rules.**^{This is the condensed version.}

Rule 1: Never ever engage in aggressive jihad. It can only be in defense.
Rule 2: Never ever harm innocents (non-combatants).
Rule 3: Treat captives properly. No torture. No scare-tactics. No ill-treatment at all.

Jihad, literally, means "to struggle." It is the struggle against oneself to be a better person and the struggle against people who oppress them.

The "Just (Just as in "Righteous") War Theory" was based on these rules. That Theory eventually became the basis of modern International Law.

Jihad isn't a new idea. Muslims adopted it from Christians, who adopted it from Jews.

Also, a fatwa, or legal ruling, is often misused. Osama Bin Laden issued a fatwa that justified attacking the United States back in the 90's. Most people remember this and think that any crazy radical can issue a fatwa and declare jihad on anyone.

Not so much.

A fatwa can only be issued by a specially trained legal scholar who is well-versed in the Qu'ran and Hadith. Osama was not certified in any way. Most Muslims frowned upon his behavior, because he was not following their religious laws. His "fatwa" was, in essence, illegal.

So, basically, jihad isn't a scary word and the terrorists get these things just as wrong as the media.

Think of it like this: the terrorist groups are to Islam as what the Westboro Baptist Church is to Christians-- a small, loud minority giving everyone else a bad name.

Stay safe,
-That⊗neChick

Religious Moments

I enjoy talking to religious professionals (priests, pastors, monks, etc). I spoke with a priest today and was amazed at how knowledgeable he was. I know I shouldn`t be, after all, he ought to know about his faith.

I like hearing them discuss their faith. Their conviction and belief shines through without them trying to convert me.

I don`t mind when they ask what my personal beliefs are, I simply say I`m on a spiritual journey (which I am) and they seem to be understanding of that. I`ve never felt judged or unwelcome in their presence, as I often feel with some other church-goers. I feel like it`s okay to express academic interest and ask questions--even if they seem like silly questions to someone inside the faith.

I dunno, I wish I could continue visiting churches and having academic conversations with the religious professionals. I call them that because most of them have the equivalence of a Master`s and higher in theology and/or philosophy. I emphasize the "academic" aspect because they treat me like a student and don`t try to convince me to join the church (unless I express the desire to do so).

It makes me sad that the semester is ending, I like my World Religions class.

Stay safe,
-That⊗neChick