A Year Behind...

So roughly a year after I started this dumb blog, I'm baaaacccck.

I know the entire blog community has been lost without me, right? Ok, don't answer that one... Well if you happen to be one of the maybe three select people that might care about my life, this one's for you...

April 2... That date signifies hope.

No- I'm not going to pull a deep quote out of my derriere, but just a simple statement. Today signifies hope because it is proof that there are only eight more days that I will be attending school... ever! haha only kidding. More like eight days until my official "freshie" year of college is completed. This year has gone by so ridiculously fast. Literally, 5 minutes ago, I was just moving into my dorm... My dad was ex-communicating me from the family, or so it felt. He figured when I went to college, I should be a big girl and do everything for myself. Everything even included my first weekend at school (for which my sister wasn't allowed to join- much to her appaullment).

But the school year started, bringing about a fun roommate whom I kindly refer to as "Miss Piggy". Miss Piggy was a snobby little or actually large brat that I received the privilege of rooming with... That roommate situation lasted roughly 3 weeks. Miss Piggy led me through a break up aka she found a new roommate that she liked more, so she connived and plotted and figured out a way for the RA's to separate us. Unfortunately the only dorms available on campus that I could move to were the senior dorms... So I moved into the senior apartments and got my very own room! :) Very nice. This allowed a much nicer college experience for me because I did not have to answer to anyone. My suit-mates or apartment sharers live in separate rooms, and we all share a main living space. All three of my suit-mates are wonderful because they all are normal and don't thrive off of drama as Miss Piggy did.

The fall semester came and went... quickly. Before I knew it, fall softball was over, and Christmas break was on the horizon. I obviously welcomed break with open arms (if you know me, you also know my love or hatred for all things academic). So Christmas break was wonderful, etc., etc., and before I knew it, oh sweet, I was back to school again.

As I did in the fall semester, I scheduled myself for a whopping 18 credit hours. Some would plead insanity on my behalf, and if I did not know my reasoning for such a heavy load during the season, I probably would too. I take a lot of credits because if you know me, I HATE being bored. Nothing productive results from boredom- only unrelevant and random thoughts, so I stay busy. In addition, I want to graduate college before I'm 50 because being cramped up in school or doing homework is honestly one big waste of youthfulness. The prime of my life, I've spent meddling around a classroom. What fun is that?

So the spring semester brought about softball and homework and school and psycho professors who are mad at life itself. I came upon a theology professor who definitely challenged me... and I also think that she can sense that I probably know more about the Bible than her Harvard education led her. She professes the doctrine of Cathology. I'm not trying to put anyone or anyones faith in the poop-chute, but Catholicism is not my cup of tea. It's too liberal and all that and I'm really not trying to get into the debate, but the fact is that a class called Christian Biblical Heritage or a study of the New Testament should probably use the Bible as the text book seeing that it's a course based on the New Testament. Pope Benedict can't tell me anything that the Bible itself doesn't state. End of topic. But this teacher has made my time in this class miserable. I have had to suck it up and swallow my pride to make her happy. I engage in conversations in class that promote liberal theology. I hate it. Irregardless, my GPA is my GPA, and I need good grades, so I shut up and do the work.

In addition to this amazing class, I have 5 other classes and the homework to prove it. Softball has been fun, well, sort of... Let's just say I have a team of 17 girls who hate each other secretly behind each other's backs, but play bff to each other's faces. weak... I don't get involved in their drama, and they don't understand it. Don't get me wrong, I have friends on the team, but I also have people whom, in my dreams, I would love to see "step out in front of a big yellow bus" (in reference to my fav movie of all time: Mean Girls). In addition to the 17 blazingly wonderful personalities, our coach doesn't know why we can't seem to win games. HELLOOOO!!!? It's the 17 crazy/psycho chicks on the team that all secretly hate each other! Where's my Nobel Prize for that one!? You can't win games as a team if you're stuck in a mental rut where there is division or separation among the members of a team. Great coaches realize that and find a way to bring crazy girls together to win games. But softball's another story:

I got into a pretty bad car accident on February 24 of this year. Some idiot man decided to pull out in front of me in attempts to run a red light. Because I had no where to go to get out of his way, I slammed into the back of his yellow piece of crap import (aka Nissan Sentra or preferably referred to as a Rice Burner). As I flew forward, my head hit the ceiling of my car, which knocked me unconscious for several seconds, and even now, I cannot tell you what happened from the time I braked to a few seconds after impact. I called 911. They asked me where I was. I didn't know. I was on my way back from batting practice at Grand Slam, so I was just on some random road in North Canton. Apparently the 911 secretary had a GPS lockdown of my phone, and she told me that I was at Everhard and something, some other road that I obviously don't remember. So to make a long story short, the EMS and police got there, put me on a body-board, and took me to Mercy Medical Center. Thankfully I got nice EMS/police workers. The EMS man took my prized possession aka Oakley sunglasses off of my head and wrapped them nicely in a cloth so they wouldn't get scratched. (Even in a life-changing situation such as a car accident, my OCD was still on the prowl. I made sure to ask that all my belongings, even my Oaks were in order.) Mercy Medical Center was a joke. My emergency room doctor must have shot up some oxycontin for himself that day, because he just wasn't on his "A" game. After being in the ER for roughly 3 hours, and upon receiving the negative results of my X-ray and CT scan, The ER Dr. said that I was to be discharged. I asked him about all my symptoms of a concussion (nausea, sensitivity towards light, headaches, etc.) and he then agreed with my self-diagnosis. I'm glad I didn't have to pay for that ER visit. I would have been obnoxiously ticked off I had paid roughly a few thousand dollars to diagnose myself in an emergency room setting. I mean, come on, if I would have known that, I would have brought my doctor dress up clothes from when I was a kid and pretend to be a real doctor because obviously I knew enough to be more helpful than that "MD".

All of this car accident stuff happened a few weeks after the passing of my Nana. As if life wasn't stressful enough, the death of Nana was very hard on us all. To have such a wonderful, loving person gone from your life is something that no one should ever have to deal with, but we did and we still do, basically everyday.

So the time went on... My friendly (sarcasm) softball team headed down to Orlando and Panama City Beach, Florida 3 days after the accident where we would drop several games and win hardly any. It was weird being in Florida without my family or Disney or Nana and Poppop. And it was definitely rough not being able to just chill at the beach. We played constantly through out trip... probably about 14 games in 7 days... aka not a vacation at all. Meanwhile I was still have increasingly bad headaches from the concussion. Eventually we got back, and the season was in full swing.

The past few weeks have been hectic as I tried to balance school and softball practices and games and life itself. Just today, I found out that I would not have to balance softball and school for at least 2 weeks but probably more like 6-8 weeks. I went to the doctor (a good doctor this time- not Mercy Medical) at Children's Hospital Sports Medicine which is the same place that I went to rehab my elbow into playing condition last fall. Upon taking a few tests, I found out that my post-concussive symptoms have not gotten any better because I have not taken time to rest and let my brain get better from the injury. I also found out that the back pain that I have been experiencing is from sprained muscles and spasms. So basically, I'm probably done for the season...

Hearing this is bittersweet. I love playing, probably more than most, but lately, I have been feeling overwhelmed by everything with school and ball and life. It really is difficult to be a collegiate athlete. Always being on the road and missing classes doesn't help academic life at all, so it really is a struggle to play ball in college. But irregardless, I want to play. I love playing, so it really makes me feel awful to be forced to stop playing the game that I love and have loved for the past 14 years. But also in those 14 years of play, I have learned that injuries happen and how to deal with the healing of injuries, so this will just be another one in the list.

Hopefully it won't take me another year to blog again... but until next time... (I'm gona be really sweet here:) ChASe what's far behind.