So I've spent a lot of time on this blog lately complaining about things that are bad, but very little time talking about school or the stuff that's going well.
And I promise, there ARE things that are going well. School--for the most part--has been great. It's really challenging, and I spend at least half of my time feeling like I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm still really enjoying what I'm learning. I'm taking a writing class where we're writing scripts for fiction and non-fiction films. I'm taking a production class where we're making short films. And I'm taking a design class (for reasons I still don't quite understand) where I'm learning all about Photoshop. I will soon be sticking my head on all sorts of other people's bodies.
On top of that, I've made friends. I've learned my way around DC well enough that I can give directions to people who have lived here longer than I have. I've reconnected to Abby and Becky's DC-based parents. I've got an in for what I think will be a great internship, AND the weather here has not been as bad as I expected.
See? All good things.
There is hope for me and DC yet.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Washington, D.C.: 4, Claire: 0
A month and half ago, when I was (fairly calmly) dealing with the flood that put good chunks of my apartment underwater, I rationalized that everyone needed something bad to happen to them upon moving to a new place, and it was better to get it out of the way. After all, the damage from the flood was minimal, and if that was the worst thing that befell me while living in D.C., that wouldn't be so bad at all!
Foolish, foolish Claire. What on earth made me think that would be THE ONLY bad thing? What on earth made me think that would be the worst thing? Now, I know better. I will now wait in calm dread for the next ridiculous, bad thing that is going to happen. I'm very sure the bad luck is not over.
Why so sure, you ask? Why so pessimistic? Here's why:
I have had what I presumed was a cold pretty much since I moved to D.C. This past week it occurred to me that 6 weeks was kind of a long time to not be getting better from a cold, and that my symptoms (stuffy nose, sneezing, sore throat) improved drastically when I was away from the apartment for long stretches of time, only to return with a vengeance when I walked back in the door. My friend Brianne--who would know a thing or two about this--has pointed out that it probably means I am allergic to something. Yes, that's right. I'm ALLERGIC to my apartment.
And, all the nose blowing I've been doing has triggered yet another problem: nosebleeds. Yup. All throughout the week, my nose has spontaneously erupted blood at the most inopportune moments, forcing me to walk around (although thankfully not in public yet) with a twisted up Kleenex shoved up my nose, as I try to staunch the blood. This makes me feel like the geeky loser I was when I was eight and had to stop taking swimming lessons because the chlorine made my nose bleed. There is nothing sadder than being the 8 year old who has to sit with the teachers while all your friends splash away in the pool.
But I digress. As if the allergies and the nosebleeds weren't enough, there's been another problem. It seems that earlier this week, a brown recluse spider bit me. For those of you not up on your spider hierarchies, the brown recluse bite is extremely dangerous, second only to a black widow. In worst case scenarios, the bite gets infected and all of the surrounding skin rots off. I'm not even joking. It's really disgusting.
Now, I've been bit by a spider before, and it was annoying and it kind of hurt for a few days, but then it faded away and left me with this stupid lumpy scar. Not a huge deal. So I didn't worry too much when I noticed the bite. I didn't worry too much when it still hurt several days after I first noticed it. I started to worry yesterday, when I realized that the redness and swelling looked worse than when I first noticed it and that my entire leg was throbbing with pain.
The advice nurse at Suburban Hospital was pretty worried, too, when I described it, and she ordered me to haul my ass ASAP to the emergency room, which I did with the help of said friend Brianne. There we proceeded to wait for 4 hours until I finally got seen. They loaded me up with antibiotics and painkillers, took blood, gave me a tetanus shot and told me that if the swelling and redness hadn't gone down substantially in the next few days, I'd have to come back in and they would need to carve out the chunk of infected skin to keep it from spreading. I'm hoping they just said that to scare me into taking all the antibiotics.
So yeah, that's been my week. Allergies, nosebleeds and spider bites, oh my. And I don't even get to enjoy the tiny silver lining of having a spider bite that hurts like a motherf---er: They offered to prescribe me percocet for the pain, and I had to turn them down. Even extra strength Tylenol makes me feel like I'm on a tilt-a-whirl and about to throw up, so I definitely can't handle big-time painkillers.
I feel like these experiences have made me wiser, more prepared for whatever other bad things will come my way. I am completely expecting to find out that mutant killer crickets live in the laundry room of my apartment, and it would not surprise me at all to find that a school of pirhanas has taken up residence in my toilet bowl. Bring it--nothing would surprise me now!
Foolish, foolish Claire. What on earth made me think that would be THE ONLY bad thing? What on earth made me think that would be the worst thing? Now, I know better. I will now wait in calm dread for the next ridiculous, bad thing that is going to happen. I'm very sure the bad luck is not over.
Why so sure, you ask? Why so pessimistic? Here's why:
I have had what I presumed was a cold pretty much since I moved to D.C. This past week it occurred to me that 6 weeks was kind of a long time to not be getting better from a cold, and that my symptoms (stuffy nose, sneezing, sore throat) improved drastically when I was away from the apartment for long stretches of time, only to return with a vengeance when I walked back in the door. My friend Brianne--who would know a thing or two about this--has pointed out that it probably means I am allergic to something. Yes, that's right. I'm ALLERGIC to my apartment.
And, all the nose blowing I've been doing has triggered yet another problem: nosebleeds. Yup. All throughout the week, my nose has spontaneously erupted blood at the most inopportune moments, forcing me to walk around (although thankfully not in public yet) with a twisted up Kleenex shoved up my nose, as I try to staunch the blood. This makes me feel like the geeky loser I was when I was eight and had to stop taking swimming lessons because the chlorine made my nose bleed. There is nothing sadder than being the 8 year old who has to sit with the teachers while all your friends splash away in the pool.
But I digress. As if the allergies and the nosebleeds weren't enough, there's been another problem. It seems that earlier this week, a brown recluse spider bit me. For those of you not up on your spider hierarchies, the brown recluse bite is extremely dangerous, second only to a black widow. In worst case scenarios, the bite gets infected and all of the surrounding skin rots off. I'm not even joking. It's really disgusting.
Now, I've been bit by a spider before, and it was annoying and it kind of hurt for a few days, but then it faded away and left me with this stupid lumpy scar. Not a huge deal. So I didn't worry too much when I noticed the bite. I didn't worry too much when it still hurt several days after I first noticed it. I started to worry yesterday, when I realized that the redness and swelling looked worse than when I first noticed it and that my entire leg was throbbing with pain.
The advice nurse at Suburban Hospital was pretty worried, too, when I described it, and she ordered me to haul my ass ASAP to the emergency room, which I did with the help of said friend Brianne. There we proceeded to wait for 4 hours until I finally got seen. They loaded me up with antibiotics and painkillers, took blood, gave me a tetanus shot and told me that if the swelling and redness hadn't gone down substantially in the next few days, I'd have to come back in and they would need to carve out the chunk of infected skin to keep it from spreading. I'm hoping they just said that to scare me into taking all the antibiotics.
So yeah, that's been my week. Allergies, nosebleeds and spider bites, oh my. And I don't even get to enjoy the tiny silver lining of having a spider bite that hurts like a motherf---er: They offered to prescribe me percocet for the pain, and I had to turn them down. Even extra strength Tylenol makes me feel like I'm on a tilt-a-whirl and about to throw up, so I definitely can't handle big-time painkillers.
I feel like these experiences have made me wiser, more prepared for whatever other bad things will come my way. I am completely expecting to find out that mutant killer crickets live in the laundry room of my apartment, and it would not surprise me at all to find that a school of pirhanas has taken up residence in my toilet bowl. Bring it--nothing would surprise me now!
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