Yes, WebMD, I Must Be Dying!

Credit: http://peezhoun.deviantart.com/art/Sexy-Grim-Reaper-348651992

Having had health complications in the past, I know I'm guilty of scratching that itch to go to Google and self-diagnose numerous amounts of ailments and terminal illnesses. Just yesterday, in fact, I had this uncomfortable stiff, bloated feeling right below my damn bra wire, and I kind of flipped my shit for a moment thinking I was going to probably die any day in the near future. Yeah, I didn't even jump to a specific disease or even cancer first. I went straight for Mr.Reaper  Mr.Dead Sexy himself.

I've used pretty much every health and disease diagnostic website out there. WebMD is pretty reliable for most ailments. It's probably the most legit out of all the sketchy websites out there. For some reason, though, it always thinks I have cancer. I don't know whether to take that as a good or bad sign. There's also DiagnosisPro, which I've only used once or twice. It's not as pretty looking as WebMD, though, so I'd only make this like a Plan C if you're in desperate need of a third opinion. Again, it always tells me I have cancer. Hmm, am I just missing the point here? Another handy resource for all your jank medical needs is Mayo Clinic . It's so easy to use, my not-so-tech-savvy father could probably use it. (Sorry, Daddy!) I'm going to tell you straight out that if you're looking for a serious diagnosis from a computer, you should probably hit up Mayo Clinic. They always know that my IBS isn't colon cancer. If only they'd understand the same thing about my phantom gallbladder attacks (Yup, I'm missing my G-Bizzle. Ain't no thang but a chicken wang, guys!) not being terminal cancer.

Poe: Deep as a pit 

But seriously. Let's just talk about how every diagnostic website wishes cancer upon it's visitors. I have a pain in a place on my body where I may or may not know what is actually there, and I go to my trusted online symptom checkers because I believe deep (like way deep... like Edgar Allan Poe deep) down inside that they will tell me the truth about my body. I'm stressed out because I've got this damn pain in my ass and no hardcore over-the-counter drugs to ease my suffering AND I probably need to start writing a will because I don't trust any of my sisters with my possessions. I'm thinking the absolute worst! I am in a very vulnerable place, and I just want to see the silver lining of a good bill of health. But no, I'm not that lucky.

So, I've pretty much had cancer everywhere, according to the Internet. I guess that'll be a great story to tell to my grandkids one day.

Me: Did I ever tell you about the time I survived both breast AND testicular cancer all in the same week?
Grandkid: Grandma, that's not even possible.
Me: I know. I'm a living miracle, John Denver Lennon Mayer. I'm so lucky to be alive! L'chaim! To life!
Grandkid: We're not Jewish, though.
Me: Don't sass me, boy! Ain't nobody got time for that!

Okay, so maybe it won't go like that (Because I'll slap the white off my son/daughter if one of my grandchildren is named John Denver Lennon Mayer).

The lesson here is this: the Internet lies.   It means well, but it lies like no other.

So, next time you have an unexplainable headache or rash in an embarrassing place, don't necessarily jump to conclusions based on an Internet search. You just need to make friends with doctors so you can text them whenever you want without having to make an appointment or pay ridiculous bills.

Or, ya know, if you're too lazy to do that, the Internet is always there. Just remember to put me in your will when you find out you're dying! :D

Sophomore Slump, Kiss My Keister

A warning at the carwash or for my semester?

I wake up between the unholy hour of 8 am and the mildly unfair hour of 9 am Monday through Friday and, like clockwork, turn out the lights to sink into my own steady beat of insomnia at 11 pm (an unheard of time for many college students. I know.) most nights. I attend 18 hours of class on the regular, never missing a beat, and I manage to workout 4 or 5 times a week and eat food that isn't artificially flavored or colored. Oh, and I do all of this while still keeping myself caught up on my TV shows and demolishing the stack of books by my bed. This is my life. 

As a second semester sophomore in college, I know the system pretty well. I've got a routine packed down securely, and, as long as I follow that routine, I'm going to survive this semester. Now, you might be thinking to yourself: Angela, you make college sound like it's a fight to the death. I think you're overreacting just a tad! And, you know, I'd agree with you for the most part. I just don't think you heard me when I said I was taking 18 HOURS!!!  In college terms, that's a mouthful of the trots right there! 19 hours is the limit for students here at the University of Oklahoma, so being one under that is pretty gutsy. 

I've been joking to myself for the last two weeks that I've become some sort of overachiever since the beginning of the semester. I have due dates scribbled in black ink across my calendar and stacks of assorted Post-It Notes with to-do lists and outlines carefully laid out all over my desk.  This wasn't me last semester, and this sure as hell wasn't me my freshman year (the year I procrastinated, watched LOST, and gained 15 pounds eating Burger King and drinking strawberry Fanta). 

My freshman year in a nutshell after watching 6 seasons of LOST in 4 weeks

I remember how bugged out sophomore year of high school made me, so why shouldn't I have expected the exact same thing out of college? Sure, sophomores in high school only need to conquer their geometry and chemistry classes while striving to control their sexual tension and random outbreaks of zit metropolises on their faces. I'm in a whole other lifeboat on this sinking ship, and Leonardo DiCaprio is nowhere in sight to save me! I've got second semester Latin (can you say, carpe kill me?) and the fact that my clothes never seem to match to worry about! 

It all sounds so sophomoric, don't you think? Exactly. 

I've decided that, despite the curse of the Sophomore Slump, I'm not going to let this semester own me. I was once called Superwoman by a friend, and now I'm here to prove that true. So, watch out professors, peers, and South Oval preachers! I am woman, hear me roar! 

Tear Factor: Radio

So, every so often (or maybe every single sacred weekend), I have an overwhelming need to make myself cry. Especially after a long week or an especially bad Friday (probably caused by my failure to remember anything on a Latin quiz), the cathartic release of crying is the one thing I really need to feel. So, rather than suck it up and go out and get wasted enough to forget my troubles, I cozy up with my favorite blanket and a bag of Sour Patch Kids (my kryptonite!) and go in search of books, movies, and TV shows that are likely to make me feel like the sappy, hormonal woman I truly am.

So, I've decided to share with the world what tearjerkers I use. You know, just incase anyone else needs a good reason to release some built up emotion and have a good cry! (And let's face it, we all could probably use just a little bit ;P)

So this weeks pick: 
Title: Radio (2003) *
Starring: Cuba Gooding Jr, Ed Harris, and Debra Winger
Rating: PG (contains some mild language)
Synopsis: Based on a true story, Radio tells  the story of a mentally disabled man nicknamed Radio (Cuba Gooding Jr.) and the bond he forms with the local high school football coach and his team.

My Take: I actually saw this in theaters when it first came out (I would have been about 10 at the time), so I was very familiar with the plot and the whole story overall, but that was so long ago, I figured I'd see what the hooplah was all about by refreshing my memory.

First of all, I'd just like to point out that if a movie is based on a true story, that probably means it's either going to scare your balls off, or it's going to make you feel all the feels. In this case, it gave me a double scoop of feels in a waffle cone.

Second, football and racial differences go together like peanut butter and banana. I've never seen a movie that contained both of those key elements that didn't make me emotional. I'm still trying to figure out why these themes go so well together. Is it seeing that brotherly bond that make your insides turn to mush? Maybe or maybe not. I just know that this film was the perfect combo with all the goodies on top.

And lastly, I am a major wimp for movies about people with diseases and the like. My life has been touched by so many amazing people. Some of those people did or do have impairments and various ailments, and seeing that depicted in movies just brings me back to so many good and bad memories. It's really fantastic to be able to bring personal experiences to the table while watching a film.

Honestly, you don't have to like football or know anything about the mentally disabled to enjoy this movie. It has a very touching story, and the cast is amazing. I felt like it was highly inappropriate for me to laugh at some of Cuba Gooding Jr.'s lines and actions because they felt so real. I had to remind myself half the time that he was acting. And I felt like his chemistry with costar Ed Harris was so genuine. At times, it was as if I was watching something happen in real time with real people rather than a movie made 10 years ago. That chemistry and realism definitely make the whole shebang more amazing and enjoyable.

My one criticism is this: Some of the more emotional scenes seemed a little overdone, if you know what I mean. I feel like those scenes were done very well, but they were pushed to their limits. There I was with tears running down my face, and it was like I just kept being punched over and over again to make me feel even more emotions. I was just like, "Yo, brah! That's enough! Can't you see I'm already making oceans with these tears?" I could have used a break. ;P

It's a definite must-see for those in need of a cry!

Tear Factor Score: 8.0/10

*This film is currently available to watch on Netflix and can be found where most DVDs are sold.*

The First Post...

... is always the hardest to write. 

Take it from someone who has started (and eventually abandoned) dozens of blogs over the last 7 years or so. I know what I'm talking about. Now, I don't consider myself a professional or even a novice at blogging, so don't put me on a cushioned, velvet throne just yet. I make tons of mistakes all the time. I've just done this so many times, that I know exactly what kind of mushy, gross anxiety newborn bloggers are feeling the first time they sit down to write a post.

I'm not required to make this post. It's just something I have to do.
This is part of my nest-building routine.
Yes, as silly as it might sound, this blog is my nest.
I'm building a home (Isn't it really cute and adorable? :D) for myself and for bigger possibilities in the future.

I'm never sure how to leave my first mark on this blank canvas. Do I talk about myself? Do I just jump in headfirst with my eyes shut tight and hope that I'll hit the water? Who am I even talking to? Who is my audience? Do I even have something worth saying? Is it too late to just not do this? Did I put on deodorant this morning? These are the questions I ask myself every single time I start a new blog. And I still don't have the answers!

Pointblank: blogging is scary. It's mortifying. And it is really awkward at first. 

For the first time in a really long time, I'm aiming to write for an audience. 90% of the blogs I've had in the past have been zones for me to just let everything go. I didn't want anyone seeing that part of me, so I kept it so far on the down-low that it probably wasn't even on the radar for site traffic. I can't do that this time. It's not just me talking to myself anymore. Someone somewhere at some time is going to read this post. That's scary to think about. 

The first post is the hardest to write because it just is. You might not have a voice or a rhythm yet, and that's okay. For instance, this post is so jumpy, it's a little embarrassing, and I might actually come back to this weeks or months from now and literally slap myself for not making much sense or having any guidelines. It's also perfectly fine to suck and make tons of mistakes at first. Maureen Johnson, author of 13 Little Blue Envelopes, once said that the best way to become a better writer is to suck. Suck all you can! I mean, look at me! I'm still sucking!

I just know I love to write. For me, that is a good enough reason to abandon my insecurities, my worries, and my panic and to embrace that ball of nerves twerking in my stomach right this very moment.

So, if you're reading this and are nervous about taking that first leap into the swimming pool of blogging, go for it. You'll never regret it. Trust me, the water is fine. Just watch out for the trolls and pornbots. ;D