Stop With the School Sales!

Target, I hate.  Staples, I hate.  J.C. Penny’s, I hate.  Any other store that has already started to advertise and sell school supplies and clothes, I hate.  It’s August…7^th for crying out loud and they’re already starting to sell this stuff.  It makes me depressed, depressed that my eighth grade year is going to start soon.   I know I still have a month left, but a month is not enough.  I want to have more days to just relax, not worry about anything, watch television.  But soon enough, it will be the first day of school again and I will swing right back into routine.  Darn.  Summer used to feel long, never-ending, boring.  That was when I didn’t have as much work as I currently do.  Now summer feels short, not long enough to recharge my brain again.  There are many things I do like about school though, the friends, the routine.  But summers are unforgettable.

Currently as I am typing, I am watching the movie Transformers.  Sorry to the fans out there, but I am not a fan.  My sister and my dad absolutely love it, think it’s the greatest thing next to sliced bread.  My mom and I have…other opinions.  We think it’s stupid, plain and simple.  We think the second is stupid and long, plain and simple.  And I just didn’t even watch the new third one, plain and simple.  I mean what did I expect, it was made after a children’s toy.

On the topic of movies, the book I am currently reading is going to be a movie this Friday.  It is titled The Help.  It is an amazing book but I have about 250 pages left!  I have to get it done before I see the movie, and I am pretty busy this week.  Monday through Friday this week only, I have a volleyball camp.  I am pretty excited because when we played volleyball in P.E., I had a lot of fun.  Hopefully it’s going to be fun.  Also on Wednesday, I am going to a birthday party.  The place we’re going to, I’ve never been so I’m excited.  That whole day I will be gone and therefore will not be reading.  And, my favorite TV show is on tonight at 8:00, soon, and I can’t read then.  I really have to crank this book out, get it done, watch the movie, and then enjoy every last day of my summer.   My favorite people right now are the ones who convince me that we still have a lot of time left.   Thanks to those people.  But the other people, the ones who make me want to go back to the beginning of my summer, I don’t like those people.  Whatever.  I knew it was going to end sometime, that time is coming.  I still have about four weeks…that’ll be enough.  Now I’m going to read a little before 8:00 so bon jour!  And see you later alligators!

The All-Nighter--Not as Much Fun as it Sounds

Sleep.  Teenagers need it.  Elders enjoy it.  And I just can’t seem to find it.  Recently, there is one day in the week where I cannot sleep.  I hate it.  Last night was the lucky dusk this week, meaning that I stayed awake until about 2:30.  Maybe even later.  I put myself into my bed around 9:40ish.  About five hours later, I eventually fell into a deep sleep that lasted until 9:30 in the morning.  Here’s what happened…

Last night, I wrote my blog, watched the movie Taken (super sad), and went upstairs to wash my face and brush my teeth.  I kissed my parents (and Lucy!) goodnight.  I trekked upstairs, ceremoniously put on my chapstick and lotion, undid my bed, shut off the light, and climbed on in.  I lay there, thinking about my Friday, my gymnastics tricks, that creepy movie.  My mind slipped into the thought of my BIGGEST fear crawling around at the bottom of my bed.  The thought that snails, the thing I hate the most, were going to suck on my foot, climb up my head scared the you-know-what out of me.  That bugged (get it?  Bugged, like a snail?) me for awhile, until I began recapping that terrifying movie where a teenage girl and her friend go to Paris where they are kidnapped for human trafficking.  I kept thinking about that scene where the scary men in black grab the girls, and whisper, “Good luck,” to the father on the phone.  That just gives me the chills.

After stressing over the fear of being taken in the middle of the night, I finally came to a rational conclusion that I was safe.  By then it was already 10:30 and my dad came in to test my blood sugar at this time (my mom tests me Monday through Thursday, my dad takes the weekends, I take none at all J).  When he came in, I was simply laying there, my eyes closed, very much awake.  I told my dad of my conundrum (what a useful word!) who then opened my window to cool the room down from this 80 degree heat wave.  He reminded me that the next day I could sleep in.  That it doesn’t matter how late I go to sleep, because (I LOVE summer!) I don’t have school.  He said he loved me and then walked out of my room after turning my light off and closing my door.  I lay there, trying not to worry about how late it was getting.  That’s something I don’t cope well with, the part about going to bed late.  I start stressing out when I see the time and the ungodly hour I am awake for.  How did the time pass by so quickly?  How am I still in the same annoying bed and issue I was in an hour ago?  I thought I was tired before I crawled into my bed, apparently I was wrong because here I am, still awake, around 11:00.  Darn.  If only my mind didn’t have so much to think about.  J  Even though the wheels in my brain were still turning, my legs were getting that weird sensation.  I felt low, which kind of stunk because even though I wasn’t sleeping, I was too lazy to get up.  But I had to, and was 71.  My parents had gone to bed after the latest testing of my blood sugar.  I went into their room and told them my number.  They told me to take a glucose tab which I obediently ate.  I said I loved them and once again crawled into the bed I now despised.  Why couldn’t I just sleep?   I lay there for a long time, bored out of my mind, getting up once to go to the bathroom.  I pulled out my really good book called The Help that will be a movie this Friday!  I read for a bit, but then got frustrated when I looked at the time and saw it was almost 1:00.  Oh goodness, just let me sleep.  I knew it wasn’t right to wake up my parents and make them not sleep as well, but I was getting stressed again and needed someone to help calm me down.  I waltzed, more like stumbled in the dark, to their room once again, close to tears.

“I just can’t sleep!”  My dad got up out of his bed and told me we should walk downstairs.  We descended into the kitchen, then sat down on the couch for a little while.  When we made it upstairs again, we realized that we would have to trek back down again.  I tested 61 and needed more milk.  Down we went for a second time and got what I needed.  After going into my room, I decided I would just prop up my pillows and read until I fell asleep.  Which is what I did.  I felt much better going for a little walk around the house, and read for a good long time.  I believe the time I probably went to sleep was around 2:30, I think.  I don’t know because I went to sleep!  Finally!  Thanks to my daddy who helped me, but I can’t write anything else because I’m REALLY tired now!  Hopefully last night won’t duplicate.  And I hope this once a week all-nighter won’t last.  I guess I can hope.  Which is what I will be doing until it comes true…J

My Darn Mind

I just came back from my gymnastics class that I take every Friday (I lied.  I just came back from dinner, which followed my gymnastics class.  Minor details, but I wouldn’t want to lie to you guys.  That would break our unspoken, fictitious (there’s that word again) trust.  Do we have trust in each other?  You trust me to write every day, and I trust you to read it…?  Wow, how did I get on this subject?  This is a really long parentheses phrase…or sentences.  I’m just going to go back to where I started when I say go.  Okay…goats!  Ha!  I just tricked myself!  What I meant to say was GO!)  Joining this gymnastics class my mom got us started in by word of mouth, is the absolute smartest thing I’ve ever done.  A great workout (toning my legs!  Woo!).  A class to which you learn AWESOME tricks that you can show-off at soccer practice and school (both of which I’ve done).  And a class that is packed, from the trampoline work to the ground tumbling, with nothing but pure and simple joy.  Amazing is one word to describe gymnastics.  Love it, love it, love it.

Although currently I am enjoying my class, from the minute I walk in to the moment I step out and all that time in between, I went through a rut.  Rut meaning that I groaned when it was time to settle in the car for the fifteen minute drive.  This rut wasn’t due to a lack of kindness.  The coaches, the kids, the parents all were very sweet people.  That wasn’t it.  My rut was caused by something very powerful.  Something that made me wish I could sit out of my classes for a long time.  The culprit was my mind.  I have a strong and persuasive mind, one that would think about the possible fall that might happen, instead of the good stuff, where you actually complete the trick.  This persuasion, this fear, caused me to hate going to my lessons because I was too scared to do any tricks.  Everyone around me was doing all of these cool things that my body could do, but my mind wasn’t ready for.  The first time I really discovered this darn mental fear was when I was still learning a simple trick.  That trick was a round-off back-handspring.  I could already perform this on the trampoline, completing it just as I should.  The place where my mind kicked in was when I was attempting it on the ground.  The ground didn’t have a soft and squishy red mat to land on, making any fall comfy.  Although that mat left behind white pieces on your rump, it was the perfect place to perfect any trick.  But the ground was and is much different.  It is a little softer than a concrete sidewalk, but not by much.  A fall, any fall would hurt.  Which is what my mind was so dang afraid of.

The first couple of weeks I completed it on the floor and did it wonderfully, no fear.  My coach would spot me (meaning she would help me through it so I wasn’t doing the whole thing on my own) and I kept nailing it.  She continued to tell me that she was hardly spotting me, that I was ready to do it on my own.  That’s when my mind kicked in.  That’s when the fear of falling and seriously hurting myself set in.  That’s when I stopped doing the trick.  Even with a spot.  I ran a few steps, completed the round-off, then abruptly stopped.  No back-handspring.  Nada.  My coach assured me that it was okay, that sometimes the round-off just feels off.  I tried it again and nothing.  No back-handspring.  Looking back on it, I am thinking the same thing that you are probably thinking.  Why?  Why wouldn’t you do the trick, especially since your body’s ready and you’re being spotted?  I don’t know.  I tried and tried and tried.  My mind just wouldn’t let me throw it.  Even with spot.  This is why I hated going to classes.  It was stressful on me, doing absolutely nothing in the class, while everyone else was hitting their tricks right on the dot.  I wanted to do it so bad, to impress everybody, but I just wouldn’t.  I would go out in the backyard, my sister ready to spot me and would do the trick over and over, minus the back-handspring.  It was like living in H-E-Double Hockey Stick.  I hated it so much, yet nothing changed.  For a very long time, over a year I recall.

Yep...very powerful!

Then one day, one of the new and temporary coaches was helping with my class.  Ryan was his name.  A super fun guy who threw his jacket on my head one time (it smelled like Axe).  He came from a more elite gym where the coaches made the students do the trick.  None of this funny business was allowed.  He told me to do a double back-handspring on the trampoline.  I did a double back-handspring on the trampoline.  He told me to throw a perfect back-tuck with a spot.  I threw a perfect back-tuck with a spot.  He told me to do a round-off back-handspring on the floor.  I did a round-off back-handspring on the floor.  Never in my life was I so proud.  I smiled and smiled and smiled at Ryan.  I beamed and beamed and beamed at my family.  Amazing.  He just told me to do it, and as the goody-two-shoes I am, I obeyed.  I was so happy.

After that monumental day in the gym, I later took my trick outside to the grass.  I can do it now without even thinking, in the gym, on the grass, anywhere just like the dude in Green Eggs and Ham.  I have progressed greatly from that trick.  Today in my class, I did many back-tucks off the air-mat (a mat with less bounce that the trampoline, but more bounce than the floor) all by myself.  I perfected plenty of round-off back-handspring back-handsprings (not afraid anymore, huh?).  And I worked on lots of round-off back-handspring back-tucks with a spot.  I used to have this hard trick by myself, but sadly lost it.  I’m working on regaining it though.  In a couple of weeks, I hope I can proudly say I found it again.  Why’d you leave me, super-cool trick?  I was good to you!  Also, before we started our tumbling, my coach had us try new types of handstands (just so you know, I’m not one of those people who can hold a handstand for more than a minute.  Mine last only a few mere seconds).  The three we tried are as follows: your legs stretched in a split, your legs stretched in a split with the first leg bent (or staggered), and the last one was your legs stretched in a split with both of your legs staggered.  Completely surprising myself, I did all of these amazingly.  Go moi!

So as you can tell, I was a success story!  I survived my darn, little mind issues and can do amazing tricks.  I’m so proud of my little Erin Marie (sniffle, sniffle).  Gosh, don’t make me cry on the world wide web!  I have to excuse myself before the tears pour (tissue dab).  I can’t take it anymore…  I’m going to cry.  I got to leave, so adios amigos!

Continue if You Dare

Warning:  Some of the following material may be a little exaggerated for entertaining purposes.  Maybe a little embellished…  A little staged…  Just go with it.  I just have to put this out there so you don’t think I’m a total weirdo.  J  By the way, the key word is some because most of it is most definitely true.  Sadly and shamefully.

After taking the trash out, sporting all of my bracelets and watches galore, I realized that I need to address the serious problem I have.  Now it’s not diabetes, because that’s a problem I can do absolutely zippo about.  Sucks, huh?  But this problem is something I can change (I just looked at my nails right then.  Super cute!).  This problem is something that started in, I don’t know, maybe fourth grade?  Fifth?  That doesn’t matter, because the biggest hint I have for your guess of my problem is that it involves hands, soap, and water.  Don’t know what it is?  Keep thinking.  It’ll come to you, and if it doesn’t, I am sorry but I will refer you to a funny farm (what’s so funny about that?)  Continue rolling those wheels in your head, fishing that brain for ideas, searching through your maze of memories… 

Yep, you got it.  I have OHWD.  Obsessive Hand Washing Disorder.  (I totally just MTURN!  Made That Up Right Now!  I did it again!  Yikes!  I think I may have OMOAD.  Obsessive Making of Acronyms Disorder.  Somebody stop me!)  So many years of washing hands, so much time gone by with me constantly thinking and obsessing over the fear of having unclean hands!  This is a serious issue that I have.  The first time I really knew that my hand washing was becoming overkill was during winter time.  It was causing my family to come apart!  Okay, not really, I’ve just heard that a couple times in movies.  Really, it was causing my hands to come apart and here’s how:

Constantly, I was thrusting my hands underneath any sink I could find.  I would slosh soap and water around my fingers, making sure to get any dirt, germ, bacteria, grain, stickiness, tar, dust particle out.  Just like what Jillian Michaels said on one of her 30 day shred videos, “They are not invited to this party.”  They meaning the gross stuff.  (Don’t go exactly off of what I quoted.  I don’t want to be held accountable for bad quotations.  You never know how reliable my old teenage noggin is!)  Even just a regular, old Sunday where everyone in my family was still in PJ’s at 2:00 in the afternoon, my pits a little sweaty from summer heat, I would wash my hands at least 15 times just because I felt dirty.  In autumn, spring, and summer, this led to just semi-harsh rough and dry skin, however in the winter…  In the winter it was full-on bleeding.  This part does not apply to the Warning sign placed before this post.  It’s all truth.  My hands hurt, stung, secreted the red liquid coursing through my body.  It was dry skin to the next level.  It was crazy-obsessions to the next level.  It was almost as crazy as the woman on My Strange Addiction who ate toilet paper.  Almost. 

That’s when I entered OHWD Anonymous (not really) and met people just like me (not really).  Let’s start this paragraph over.  That’s when I became a lotion addict.  I put lotion on constantly, and cut down my washes…  A little.  Today, I proudly say that I suffered from OHWD and lived to see the end of my Lifetime movie.  I put lotion and chapstick on just as much as I cleaned, but it’s a much better problem.  More productive, I believe.  I had OHWD.  I got through it.  I am clean.

Please do not try this at home.

30

Right now I am staring at a blinking cursor, a blank word document, and electric blue nails.  Today my mom and I got our nails painted at a nearby salon.  The women there are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met, making it not just a place where your hands and feet get dolled up, but also a place where your ego is boosted up a notch.  I love going there.  Since you can’t see my hands currently, I will just tell you that they look amazing as I type up my 30^th blog post.  The 30^th!  Congratulations to moi!  30 is a big number, and to celebrate I am going to write a post completely dedicated to my diabetes that makes for good blogging and of course, the cockroaches that got me on this laptop (see Vacation Heat and…Bugs?).  Here goes my dedication.

I give 13 millimeter shots every three days.

I put up with big, fat bugs meandering, one false step pays.

I have to pull out Lola and bolus my food before eating.

I had to wear shoes everywhere, be ready for fleeing.

This makes me mad.

This makes me sad.

This makes me feel every emotion but glad.

But these events, all these events.

Are the events that give me a good way to vent.

I have to bring big, old bags to go have any fun.

I had to check my shoes, afraid they would come out in a run.

I have to be tested in the middle of the night.

I could barely sleep, afraid of those roaches, afraid of their fright.

This makes me mad.

This makes me sad.

This makes me feel every emotion but glad.

But these times, all these times.

Are the times that make for great rhymes.

I have to bring a meter, pricker, and strips everywhere I go.

I had to be fearful that cockroaches were in my bed, chewing on my toe.

I have to listen to ignorant comments, biting on my tongue.

I wanted to leave those things soon, to me they resembled dung.

This makes me mad.

This makes me sad.

This makes me feel every emotion but glad.

But these stinkers, all these stinkers.

Are the stinkers that make this web address not a sinker.

The diabetes scarred me.

The cockroaches scared me.

The finger-pricking hurt me.

The antennae disgusted me.

But these things, all these things.

Are the things that give this blog full of zing.

I just realized that this is not my 30^th blog post, but my 31^st.  Eh, whatever.  Just forget everything I wrote…  It doesn’t matter that I put time and effort into a BIG, FAT LIE!  I guess I just need to go back to kindergarten and learn how to count again. L

But who cares?  My nails look good.  Enough said?  Of course it should.

(Cringe, Cringe)

One big, modern family!

Even my favorite shows have said things about diabetes that were packed to the rim with wrong information.  Modern Family, a hilarious TV show that my family loves to watch, had a scene where a girl with diabetes supposedly could not eat ice cream, even though in truth, diabetics can eat just as much ice cream as the next person.  This is another show to which I NEVER liked titled Jonas where diabetes was brought up.  A teenage girl who was in love with Nick Jonas, someone who has Type 1 Diabetes, said, “I always dreamt Nick smelled like chocolate chip cookies!  Sugar free, of course!”  There, right there was that tiny implication that diabetics like Nick or myself could not eat the regular, yummy chocolate chip cookies, for we can only munch on sugar-free.  Not true!  What always bugged me the most about this is that Nick just let the girl say her line and falsely inform young kids about type 1, instead of telling the writers the truth.  That part is what makes me the most angry.  But this, this TV episode that I’m about to share is the one that makes me the most irritated.  Here it goes…



Hannah Montana.  I already wasn’t a huge fan of this show, however after this episode I am going to share, I couldn’t stand it.  The episode was all about how Oliver was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.  The show opens with Oliver falling down the stairs in his school.  The writers are trying to show that his blood sugar was so low, he couldn’t stay upright.  Really?  I’m going to crash and burn every time I reach a 60 number?  Not true, very dramatic, and extremely insulting.  Because of Oliver’s fall down the stairs, Miley and Lilly think he is “falling” in love.  They continually ask him who the girl is, causing Oliver to rush out of the lunchroom in a huff.  Later, the two girls spy on Oliver who brings a box of chocolates to the school nurse.  This of course indicates that because of his diabetes, Oliver can no longer eat candy, when in fact chocolate is, well I don’t know, SOMETHING DIABETICS CAN EAT!  But these idiot Disney writers have absolutely no idea what it is they are writing about, and decide to teach children things that are certainly not true.  Am I crazy to think that it is completely WRONG to make all of the children at school think I can’t eat anything?!  That was a rhetorical question because I know I am RIGHT!  I get annoyed with my friends who think they have to give me special treats at their birthday parties, but the people I should really be displaying my frustration with are the writers and the producers and the directors who put all of this crap out there in the world (sorry for the bad word…just really into this right now J).

What's the secret?

Miley and Lilly now believe that Oliver’s “girl” is the old school nurse.  They confront the nurse, displaying their disgust, when the woman finally realizes that Oliver has not yet told them of his new “disease” (it’s in quotes because his “disease” is fictitious {saw this word on a Souplantation coupon!} and magically disappeared in the later episodes).  The teens are confused that Oliver did not tell them of his new type 1 and show their concern with overacting and fake feelings.  Miley is so “concerned” about her friend that she reads a diabetes pamphlet cover to cover, with an ice cream bowl in hand.  “This says that if Oliver diets and exercises, he can live a normal life,” Miley tells her father.  Ooohh, wow!  Miley must have slipped her lines considering the fact that diet and exercise is for Type 2 Diabetes, not Type 1!  “I could totally keep Oliver away from sugar,” Miley says, with a big, old spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.  Classy?!  I don’t think so.  Her father nods sarcastically, implying that #1 Oliver can’t eat sugar (if he really had type 1 he would be able to!).  #2 Robby Ray thinks his own daughter is a pig who just LOVES ice cream and sugar and all the things diabetics apparently can’t eat.  Whatever.  (I’m really heated right now!)

To get Oliver’s mind off his new “disease”, to which he still hasn’t told Miley and Lilly about yet, Miley asked him to come to a party that Hannah Montana was invited to.  They walk into the party and are stared down by cookies, cupcakes, brownies, red vines galore.  Oh no, I sarcastically think.  Oliver can’t have any of this.  I’m being sarcastic because me, a true to heart diabetic, would eat every single one of those things.  Because I can!  Every time Oliver tries to eat something, the girls knock it away from him, truly believing that he cannot have it.  At the end of the episode, one good message was told.  Oliver told them that he can eat candy, and that sometimes he needs to, when his blood sugar is low. He pulls out a meter and POOF!  his number appears on the screen.  No pricking of the finger, no blood-squeezing, nothing.  Just…POOF!  Wouldn’t that be nice if it was real!  Which it isn’t.  Reality check.  So, for the most part, that episode was loaded with false information, but at the end was a good message.  Thank goodness something was good about it!  Or else, I might have to have a little word with Disney.  If you didn’t catch it, that was my way of threatening…not good?  Okay, I’ll work on it. J

WARNING: Do not keep reading if you have not watched and want to watch The Bachelorette finale.



EWWWW!





J.P. won.  I am sad.  Ben was the one.  I am mad.







My Hot Day and My Low Numbers

It’s hot today, very hot.  Right up in the 80s.  Now usually 80 degree weather doesn’t seem too hot to me, but since it RAINED! yesterday morning, it seemed extremely warm out today.  Just sitting here right now, my laptop in my, well, lap, I am sweating.  But for the most part, I was inside a store with air conditioning.  That’s part of the problem; outside it is like Palm Springs and inside it is like Chicago.  Stores crank up the air conditioning, making it almost impossible to shop.  Which I did a lot today. 

After running 3 miles at 7 am with my mom, the girls in my house stared at the TV where The Bachelorette: Men Tell All, was playing.  Wow, I thought to myself.  Bentley is a big, fat jerk!  He is such a jerk that he can’t even own up to what he did…  A total coward!  And if you have no idea who Bentley is, he is a you-know-what who played the bachelorette, Ashley.  He is scum who lied to Ashley.  He is a loser who made Ashley fall for him, while the whole time he thought she was repulsive.  Well, newsflash buddy, you are the repulsive one.  Yeah, he made me very angry.  But tonight is the day, the day where Ashley chooses who she wants to spend the rest of her life with.  Will she pick J.P. or Ben?  I can’t wait until she chooses not just her man, but her future.  That was deep, huh?  Yep, that’s Erin Marie for you, deep as an ocean!

So not only was it hard to shop because it was freezing inside all of those stores (although I did get a cute new shirt and jeans!), but it also was terrible because I had a bunch of songs in my head.  Taylor Swift songs.  But DO NOT get me wrong, I LOVE Taylor Swift.  The only problem I had was the repeating verses trapped in my brain.  I am in a Taylor Swift phase, and have been listening to her songs so I know every one that she sings.  All of her songs are amazing, however my favorite five are the following:

1.      Mean

2.      You Belong With Me

3.      The Story of Us

4.      Love Story

5.      Our Song

She is a great singer, talented and absolutely beautiful.

Okay, so you remember how high I have been recently?  Well now I’m low.  Okay, my numbers aren’t really low, but they are trending lower.  It might be because it is hot out, which always, for some reason I do not know, makes my numbers drop.  Actually, though, while I was running I felt low and took some sugar but obviously was not because when I came back my numbers were in the 200s.  I started off at 113, but apparently was not in the 60s when I thought I was.  Whoops!  I guess I was just craving a glucose tab right then. J You never know what it is I might try and do.  I am very mysterious…and a bad galleta (cookie in Español)!  Oooh!  This blog just went bilingual!  You can thank me later when you come away from this post knowing just one more Spanish word!  You never know when it might come in handy. J

Oh wow!  There’s some drama on my street right now!  I got to go check it out!