In Which I Am Alive

Today, I worked on a group project and didn't hate every second of it! In fact, throughout our meeting I continuously found myself thinking, "Man, I'm so glad I have a partner for this assignment. This is way better than working alone." If you know me at all, you know that this is a very rare experience for me. I hate group work. When it comes to academics, I prefer to work at my own pace, with my own ideas. But today, my partner and I were on fire, bouncing ideas off of each other, and working with much more speed and quality than we could have managed on our own. Maybe it's just a matter of finding the right partner? All I know is, that is one less project I need to worry about as finals approach. Success.

So...Andria at Is this Awesome? Y/N nominated my blog for a Liebster award! I'll be honest with you, I'm not really sure what that is (are there prizes if I win? or do I just get warm fuzzies for being nominated?), but I like German words and I like friends, and I like having other people give me ideas of what to write about, so I'ma roll with this. So, conditions for the Liebster award require me to post 11 things about myself. Thus, in no particular order: 11 facts about me: 1. I have an inordinate fondness for reptiles. Especially turtles and snakes. I would love an albino corn snake (they're so pretttyyyyy) but barring that, I would be happy with a box turtle. 2. I once peed my pants while on a date with a boy I really liked. 3. This one time I went scuba diving in the Caribbean and threw up. On my sister's head. She didn't notice though, because we were underwater so the vomit just kinda...dissipated. Honestly, I'm just glad I remembered to...

Perhaps it's just a manifestation of my spring fever, or the fact that I watched Leap Day last weekend, but I have been incredibly psyched for St. Patrick's Day this year. (Which is a little ridiculous, because what would I even do on St. Patrick's Day? I don't drink, which seems to eliminate...the majority of options). So far, my plans are to listen to Irish pub rock all weekend (good thing I already have a Pandora station in place for that), get friends to play some non-alcoholic drinking games with me (Fresca pong, anyone?), watch Waking Ned Divine, and go see Natalie MacMaster perform some Celtic fiddle tunes. Some of these activities won't actually happen until a few days after St. Patrick's, but that just means longer celebrations for me! Hooray! Commenters: what do you usually do for St. Patty's, if anything? Do you have any vaguely Irish plans this weekend? And, for your listening pleasure: In other news...if any friends want...

Here is the bizarre thing about antidepressants: I know that they work. I know because the times I have forgotten to take them for more than 2 days in a row have been miserable. Picture a weepy mess unsure why she can't get off the couch. Picture 5 naps a day. Picture grumpy and snappy. Picture...picture me before the meds, I guess. But I also know that really, I can go 2 or 3 days and be safe. Except that these little pills make wonderful placebos. So if I start to feel down and I remember I haven't taken them yet, I just pop a pill and feel much better (Even though I know that it is physically impossible for Zoloft to have that quick of an effect). And if the depression strikes on a day where I have taken the meds, I just have to tell myself over and over again that I took them that morning, so I should be feeling all right. And, pretty often, that does the trick. It's kinda like how when you realize that you forgot your deodorant that morning you instantly start dr...

For the past few weeks, I've felt myself disappearing. It was terrifying, because it was reminiscent of these days , or these ones ... dark times. (heck, I'm not afraid to say it: pre-Zoloft times). I couldn't remember what I loved, or even what I liked. I didn't want to do anything. But not doing anything was even worse, because it turns out...when you can't remember who you are, being alone is unbearable... because you don't even have yourself to keep you company. And so you stay busy, you stay around people, and you sleep a lot. But then, over the last few days, I found myself waking up a little bit, like a perennial popping back through the soil in the spring. It wasn't ever dead, the bulb was there all winter long, waiting for the sun to come back. And I don't know for sure what it was... but it might have been being in a classroom, teaching music for the first time in far too long and then spending almost an hour just chatting w...

Dear Body of Mine, I think you're pretty great. Sure, I wish you had 20/20 vision. I wish you didn't feel the need to break out every other day. I would love it if you knew how to produce the proper amount of serotonin in my brain or if you didn't funnel all of my stress into stomachaches. But I have to admit, you are pretty fantastic. I mean, there are all the normal, miraculous things that you do every day, like digesting my food, and pumping blood through my arteries, and allowing me to walk to class. And then there are the crazy, exceptional things you can do. Like my double-jointed elbow. That one's a great conversation starter. And have I ever told you thank you for having such a remarkable immune system? Remember that year when two of my roommates got swine flu and I didn't catch it from either of them? All you, my friend. So hey, I know a lot of people talk about hating their bodies, and I just wanted you to know that I think you're pretty all right....

Sometimes, this scary, insidious thought pops into my head, and it goes like this: " Karissa, what are you even doing with your life? " And then there's this split second where I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing or why and maybe I should be disappointed in myself? You see, when I was little, I knew I was going to do big  things. Because, as my teachers, friends, and the kids who picked on me at recess said, I was smart . And since I was smart, I knew that I could do anything in the world. I could play in the WNBA, or become a world-famous landscape architect, or design bridges as a civil engineer. I could become a world-renowned author or a concert pianist or a rabbit breeder (yes, these are all careers that I considered during my childhood. Let us disregard the fact that I was the least coordinated kid on the planet, so the WNBA was out. Let's also ignore the fact that I hated my pet rabbit, so why I wanted to help bring more of those into the wo...