Death and Destruction, via Armpit

Admittedly, I might be a bit of a hypochondriac.
I've been using my brother's deodorant the past few days because I'm out of normal deodorant. It's the manly kind with lots of aluminum zirconium, which isn't good for you, anyway.
And of course, I put it on directly after I shave.

Yesterday, I found a little bump under my armpit.

Huzzah! Shoddy pictures!

I messed around with it, I poked it, I prodded it, I wiggled it.

There was only one reason that bump could be there.

Cancer I am dying of cancer oohh mmmyyyy ggoooddd

This was it. I was going to die.

Most people when they find out they're going to die, they go and try to do everything they can in one day. Make the most of their fleeting hours.

Me? I sat in my beanbag chair in the dark of my room all. Day. Long. Waiting for death.

I spent the day going in and out of panic attacks. I tried to self-medicate, massage, and prod my problem away. I almost didn't talk to anyone all day, drowned in negative thoughts and mental conversations of self-hatred. There is only so much you can do when you realize you're about to die from a terminal illness.

That night, I did what any sensible, dying teenager would do.

I drank.
WHat pfft I don't drink, teenagers don't drink, haha, that's so illegal, I just became very tired and dizzy and incoherent at one point of the night and did questionable things.

I did lots of stupid things and ended up passing out at about 3.
From, you know, exhaustion.

Klepto gets an A+ for trying to sleep with me during all of this.

I woke up the next morning, feeling pretty eh, but A-okay after a few cups of coffee.

I looked at the bump again, and then decided to do something I've never done before.
Consult the internet.

The first few sites said it was some sort of cyst that I shouldn't worry about.
The rest all said it was a symptom of various cancers and I didn't have much longer to live.

Terrified, I consulted three more people.

My art partner Kay.

Liz.

And my nurse/rider friend Viv.

Kay said that it was probably nothing.

This is probably how Liz felt this morning.

Liz and Viv said I was fine. I still wasn't convinced.

So I sent a picture.

LIZ: "Omg. No. You just have sensitive skin."

ME: "But it's like a bump under my skin????"

LIZ: "Just sensitive skin"

ME: "Even the bump bit???"

LIZ: "Yeah."

ME: "How do you know?????"

LIZ: "Because I just showed my Nana and she was an ER nurse for 15 years and a RN for 20."

Me: "So it's not deadly cancer???"

LIZ: "Lol no"

ME: "Well tell her I said thanks because she just saved me from a bunch of anxiety attacks."

LIZ: "Okay"

Viv's diagnosis was almost identical to Liz's, and even though WebMD sounded pretty convincing, Liz's nana, an ex ER nurse, and Viv, a current nurse, sound pretty legit.

So yeah. That's my story of how I almost died and then didn't actually.

Cheers for now?

Feelings are meaningless.
Especially when you already don't have any.

Pre-Exam Anxiety

I took my math exam yesterday.
I am very bad at math. I'm currently passing my math class by the skin of my teeth.
If I didn't pass this exam, I was going to flunk out of my 9th grade math class.
And you can't just flunk 9th grade year. It's like, a trial year for the rest of high school. Can you make it?  Will you get over your dreams being crushed and destroyed by one year of rigorous education? Can you bear the intolerable loneliness because you are too socially awkward to actually try to make friends? Can you????
This final was basically going to determine the rest of my life. Hypothetically.

If I passed this final, I was probably going to be super successful the rest of my high school career.
If I passed this final, I was probably going to become super popular and just drop-dead gorgeous.
If I passed this final, I was probably going to get like, a zillion scholarship offers to colleges like Yale and stuff.
If I passed this final, I would feel as if I just saved a bunch of kittens from a burning house.
Okay, maybe not that good.

I cancelled, not only a show, but also going and cross country schooling, to study for this exam.  I have never worked so hard on a study guide in my life.  If this wasn't determination, I don't know what is.

I had nightmares of failing the night before. I ended up waking up at 3 in the morning and staying awake until 6. I studied all throughout the day. I have never been so dedicated to passing an exam in my life.

I mowed my way through my Law Ed exam (heck yeah I got a 93 on that come at me sophomore year), and nearly had an anxiety attack before my math exam, my last class of the day.

I opened up the provided laptop. My heart in my throat, my hands trembling. What if I didn't remember the equations? What if I didn't remember anything? What if I just totally blank??

I pressed "start test" hesitantly.

I nearly screamed.

The first question was the same as the study guide.
And so was the second question.
And the third.
And every single one after that.

The teacher didn't bother to make a final exam. She just copied and pasted the study guide.
I had memorized the study guide like the back of my hand.

I've never been so confident in my life.
I was going to get, like, an 100 on my final exam.
Oh my god. I'm going to get an 100 on my final exam.

I didn't get stumped on a single one, except for the few questions that had glitches accidentally coded in.
I hovered over "submit test".
And then I clicked that motherfucker because I was going to get an 100 on this final exam.

My grade come up immediately.

75 was printed in big blue numbers across the right corner.

I passed my final exam.
I didn't flunk my 9th grade math class.

The euphoric security of this grade only lasted a few moments.
I looked down at my hands.
They hadn't changed.

I wasn't locked into a super successful high school career.
I wasn't suddenly super popular and drop-dead gorgeous.
A zillion scholarships to Yale and stuff weren't flooding into my desk.
And I certainly didn't feel like a saved a bunch of kittens from a burning house.
But then again, what can compare to that? You're not only those kittens savior now, you are also a proud mother. Welcome to motherhood, friend.

Nothing changed. I may not have learned any math all year, but I learned that I'm not defined by the grade I get on a quiz, or a test, or even a final.

TL;DR: Become a stripper. They earn 6 figures a year, and hey, you might get slut-shamed, but at least you're earning twice as much money your haters are. Rub that money in there face. Literally. That's your job, but with more boobs involved. And you'll probably only work nights.

Cheers!

More Exam Stress!

I've been at my dad's this weekend studying and crying.

Why?

EXAMS. EXAMS WHY.

The only exam I'm really worried about is math because I literally suck at math. By suck, I mean my current average in that class is like, maybe a 75. That bad. I had a college friend come over and tutor me like, not even five minutes ago, and we were only able to cover two chapters in one hour. I have an exam on a year's worth of math lessons within a few days.

I am also eating, like, four granola bars at once because I don't care anymore.

I also had to scratch my entry on a show this weekend so I could study.
Yay.

Also! I decided I wanted to watch a movie earlier today with Rupert Graves in it, because, you know, Rupert Graves, and I decided to watch A Room with a View. It didn't occur to me to check the rating, not that I care, I've watched my share of R-rated movies, I'm a teenager, not a five year-old that got a hold of the movie access channel.
About 30 minutes in, it was a pretty good movie. I was enjoying it, albeit, I skipped a few scenes because the story got a bit slow at times.

Then came the lake scene.
I've also watched my share of sex scenes and nude shots in movies.
But I still get squeamish at certain things, because deep down, I am still that five year-old who got a hold of the movie access channel.

I wanted to see Rupert Graves in a movie, but I didn't want to see that much of Rupert Graves.
I didn't want to see that much of anyone in a movie.
Especially not engaging in so much activity while being so, 'free'.

Regardless, I'm scarred forever.

Also! Lou and I are visiting my cousin next weekend, and also going to an anime convention while we're at it because, you know, we're nerds. Just a quick update, considering that my entries might be spotty next weekend. I'll try to write on Saturday before I leave, after I ride.

FYI: We're not dressing up as anime characters. We don't do that.
We dress up as non-anime characters instead.

That's all I've got. I haven't ridden in days and I'm going insane.

Cheers!

Okay

I've come to the shocking realization that I'm just not a likeable person.
Also I had so many different ideas for this entry, and that's how I decide to start it.
Good job, Ava.

Anyway, nothing hurts worse than noticing that someone is either
A) slowing losing interest in you
B) never had interest in you anyway.
Especially if you like the person.

God I'm mentally trying to address fifty different problems at once to a viewership of 14 people.

Okay, I'm trying this again.

I've realized that I'm not living for anything. Sure, I have hopes and dreams and aspirations, but they're not anything serious or actually reachable.
I'm trying to say that I'm nothing and no one to so many people. I'm saying that I've worked so hard for so many things, yet fall every time.
You start to wonder if it's worth it.
When you put your blood, sweat, and tears into everything you love, only to come back fruitless, you wonder why you're still trying. The second you think you might come out on top, you get shoved back down. I would say I've always been in second place, but I think I'm more like fourth or fifth.

I'm a mess.
I'm a big, broken mess.

I would say I'm okay with being broken, but I'm really not. I'm sick of it.
I've tried everything. I'm still broken.

This is where I am supposed to quit.

But you know what? If I'm going to be broken, I'm going to be the best at being broken. Or at least number two. Because red ribbons are pretty, and if not, yellow is okay too.
Or maybe no ribbon at all. If I'm going to be broken, I don't need something tangible to glorify my problems.
Why quit now? I could go down in history for being terrible.
I'll be in your kids' history books for not having the strength to put on a pair of pants. And I'm fine with that, as long as your snotty future kids don't deface my picture.

One time, Liz brought me to a church service, and I learned nothing.
Except one line that stuck with me.

"It's okay to not be okay, but it's not okay to stay that way."

He was kind of wrong.
It's okay to not be okay, even if you have to stay that way.
If being "not okay" helps you cope with your issues, then hell, keep being not okay.

I'm just going to keep not being okay. And I'm okay with that.


Cheers.

Hair

I really can't wait for my hair to grow out.
I have an undercut right now, and don't get me wrong: I do not regretting hacking off whatever my hair was two years ago. It was a mess and it needed to be burned.
But I miss being able to hide in it. It helped with my anxiety.
Short hair is fun and all, but when your heart starts racing and you need something to get your mind off of things, there's no hair there for you to twiddle.
And I twiddle. A lot.

Anyway, today I learned that listening to Night Vale while taking a test is a very bad idea.
By that, I mean that I nearly screamed during a test.

For those of you who don't know what Night Vale is:
Welcome to Night Vale is a twice-monthly podcast about a creepy little town that seems to be on its own schedule apart from the rest of the world. Along with angels you aren't allowed to acknowledge, mountains that don't exist, banned wheat and wheat by-products, Librarians, who you should definitely avoid, a literal five-headed dragon running for Mayor, a Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home, a GIANT GLOW CLOUD WHOM YOU MUST SUBMIT TO, a floating cat, lots of dead interns, dog parks that you shouldn't enter under any circumstance, an Apache Tracker who shouldn't be allowed to call himself that, a Barber that gives cactuses haircuts, and, most importantly, the wonderful, amazing, perfect scientist that came through and never left. All told through the eyes of the Night Vale radio station host.

10 out of 10, would recommend.

That's all I've got,
Cheers!

Friday and Saturday

Haha I haven't updated in awhile!
Why?

Because of exams! Yay!

Anyway, I'm giving you a brief recap of Friday, Saturday, and everything in between, even though there is nothing in between Friday and Saturday.

Enjoy?




Friday:
Today was senior day. By that, I mean that I had to sit in the gym for three hours watching awards being given out to seniors. It was long, boring, cramped, and really well organized. I also had to pee really bad through the entire thing. Overall, it was awful, but I'm super happy it went over well because I knew the person who had to organize it, and she said that if it didn't go over well, she was going to sit in the corner and cry. Luckily, that didn't happen.
Next block, I literally lied down under my table (this class has a college room layout, if that gives you any idea on what I'm talking about) and watched Netflix. I don't think my teacher even knew I was there.
At lunch, some COMPLETE JERK decided that (instead of splitting the lunches up) they should just let 900 students cram into one very small lunch room.
Oh fun.
Now, at lunch every day, I usually sit at the far end of the cafeteria by myself, with a good five seats away from everyone else. It's a nice arrangement, none of the admin notice me, no one talks to me, no one sits near me. Is it lonely? Yes. But you know what? I like that.
But today? No. Some jerk waltzes right up a chair away from me, sits their butt down, and calls a group of five or six people over. Not only is it super crowded and loud, they also proceed to scoot down RIGHT NEXT TO ME. THERE IS NO LONGER A MEDIATOR CHAIR. NO BOUNDARIES. NO BARRIERS.
It took me five seconds to consider my only option, and then get up and go to the bathroom.
Walking down the hallway, I see my favorite teacher person come off the stairs. And of course, he's like, my favorite person, so I can't just obviously see him and duck out to take a piss. Plus, he's already marching towards me, smiling.
Alright, Ava, just pass the bathrooms and get some water. That'll give you enough time to rehydrate and say hello.
"What happened to your wrist, kid? Horse buck you off?"
"What, this? Oh, Carpal Tunnel. No biggie."
"Dang. That sucks."
Good. Short conversation. Love him, mean it, but I'm not mentally stable enough to actually engage in conversation.
So I ducked into the bathroom and locked myself in the first stall.
I stayed in for about 15 minutes, but today's "special lunch" is about an hour and a half long, so it didn't even put a dent in it.
I came back out, walking as slowly as I possibly could back to the masses.
There are no seats left for me to sit in.
Next to my normal table sits my mutual enemy, Cam, so I shot over to his table and gave him a vague explanation.
"Hey, dude, I'm standing right here, don't question it."
"Okay."
"Okay this is weird I'm sitting down."
"You do you, Ava."
All of his friends are really annoying/awful, so it couldn't be a permanent fix for my issue.
"Okay, I can't do this. Have fun at whatever this table use to be."
"Good luck."
I tried to go back to the bathrooms, but the place was crammed with seniors trying to change from their dresses to their jeans so they could go outside to a "senior field day" thing. Not only was I out of luck, it also probably seemed like I had a bladder issue, because this was my second time going to the bathroom within the last five minutes.
So I walked out, and I did my last possible option.
Walking around like an admin. It was my downfall, my immediate demise. Walking around a bunch of overcrowded tables like a complete fool.
Until I saw my teammate Dakota.
She's super cool, she's super popular, she rides at my barn, she's by far one of my favorite people.
Yes. This is my chance. I sit down with her, and we look through her yearbook. She tells me about all of the juniors and seniors, I tell her about all of the freshmen and sophomores.
The only issue: my ex-best friend is sitting behind us. Along with the entirety of my old gang of friends. And all of my big brother's current friends.
My ex-best friend is not a good person. He's loud, he's awful, he makes references to old memes, and my brother and his friend Fish once caught him singing that one song from Shrek. Not just the first few "Somebody once told me....". He sang the entire thing. All of it. I don't even know past the first sentence. No one knows past the first sentence.
I would also like to mention that he is known for sexually assaulting people. Me included. Also, he broke up with my other ex-best friend because he wanted to bang some other girl instead of having a committed relationship.
God I hate him. I hate him with a burning, fiery passion. It's an unattainable hatred not found in any other human being. I'd tell him to go to hell, but when I die, I am not sharing.
I suffer through all of his crap going on behind me until the bell rang.
Next block is science, which I spent the entire day watching Rhett and Link and listening to dramatic music and staring out the window. No one talked to me, no one looked at me, no one acknowledged me. Is it lonely? Yes. Is it nice? Sure. Is it depressing? Yeah.
Last block was gym, but the actual gym was being used for the celebration basketball game where you had to pay $10 to watch. I don't keep money on me anymore because some kid in third grade mugged me once.
I was the only kid who didn't go. I sat in a big, empty classroom by myself. Friday has been my validation day. I am that one loner kid. I'm that one kid who doesn't really have friends at school, just assigned lab partners and occasional conversation pieces. So I did what any other loner kid would do.
I shoved my earbuds in and cranked the volume up.
And I watched Rhett and Link until my ears rang a little bit.
And I wished I had friends like Rhett and Link did.

The bell rang and I walked out to the car line. My brother's friend, Fish, walked up to me, seeing as Lou had skipped and he didn't have anyone to talk to.
Then, we saw it: a kid, holding a slice of pizza.
The seniors got to have a field day after the ceremony, with bounce houses and sodas and pizza.
But this kid wasn't a senior. I knew this kid, I've seen him around, and he's not a senior.

"Hey man, where'd you get that?"
He pointed to one of the volunteers.
"They had extras. Just ask."

I don't eat lunch for various reasons.
I am starving.

So Fish and I walked over to the volunteer.
"Hey, can we have some of your extra pizza?"
"Sure, sweetie. It's right over there."

Fish and I bolted.

We opened the box, expecting a half eaten pizza.
Nope. An entire pizza. All to ourselves.

Fish grabbed the pizza, the entire thing, without the box, running to the side of the field and hissed like the Pizza Rat.

"Fish, get the **** back over here, other people want some. I want some. I'm the other people."
"Fine."
I grabbed a slice before other kids saw us, joining the swarm. I grabbed a slice, with a burger from a tin pan next to it, a bag of Fritos and a bag of regular chips, and ran into my car as it pulled up.

This was it. My redemption.

Look I drew a crap picture of myself.

I was okay with being the loner kid. As long as it involves stolen pizza.

Bonus pic of Swindle, who's staying for the weekend:

Aesthetic.

Saturday:
Liz and I decided to give each other lessons.
Why?
Because we can, and you can always learn from anyone.
Ava says, waxing philosophical.
Anyway, Liz worked with my position and freeing up in the saddle, as well as responsiveness and the dreaded skinny jumps.
I have a backstory to this, of course.
I'm a pretty bold rider, but Mister use to not be a very bold horse. This made me a not-as-bold rider.
One day, I took him over his first skinny jump, a single barrel with anchor poles on both sides.
Or, at least, I tried.
The first few times resulted in refusals or runouts, which, while frustrating me, also made me more determined.
Until one try, where he did finally jump it.
But vastly overestimated the stability of the barrel. Even with my leg on, he let his knees dangle just an inch too low.
Of course, he went head first into the sand, with the barrel rolling out from underneath him, me flipping over his neck.
It was not a pretty sight. Liz and the trainer I was with both told me they thought Mister was going to come down on top of me. Fortunately, I somehow avoided serious injuries, left with a chronic back problem to serve as a memory.
So Liz set an identical jump up during the lesson. He took it like it was nothing.
In Liz's lesson, I tried to put her on a longe line and take away her reins, but I don't think her new horse has ever had that done to her, so it resulted in some chaos. We forewent that exercise and I tried to show her some effective ways to get her horse Juliet to lighten up, but Juliet decided she wasn't going to get heavy, so we moved on.
I recently thought up an exercise to work on speed and organization between jumps, where you put a pole down after each stride so the horse has to think about where their feet are and the rider has time to regroup. As the horse gets the hang of it, you take a pole out until you're left with no more pole and the horse is still thinking.
And, to my surprise, it worked. And it worked really well.
Liz did the skinny a few times and we called it a day.
At the end of it, horse and rider were dripping sweat.

That's it, that's all I have for you, sorry it took so long to write, but again, finals, so yeah.
Cheers!

Teeth

I use to have a python named Lucille.
Every night, almost undoubtedly, she would make this little noise that sounded a lot like when you suck on your teeth.
First few times my brother and I heard it, it was a little unsettling. After a while, we just didn't care too much.

Lucille has been dead for about a year. She's buried underneath the butterfly bush in the front yard.

I am sitting at the desk in my room. Typing up this entry.
Listening to the teeth sucking noise.

It makes you feel psychotic. Sometimes, it sounds like it's coming from the corner, other times, behind you, next time, right in front of you.

It's above me right now.

I don't know what it is.

In the meantime, cheers.

Carpal Tunnel

Guess who has carpal tunnel?

ME!

Yep, just a super dull pain in my left hand and it is slowly making my life more and more difficult.
By that, I mean it just kinda hurts to type.
And, you know, do stuff. With my left hand.

Anyway, typing especially, so keeping up my blog is slightly difficult, so a message to the few readers I have:
Don't get to excited. I can't write anything exciting right now. I probably shouldn't be writing this right now, as it kinda hurts.

It's not like "oh snap, my world is coming to an end! What now?" It's more of a "Huh, my fingers feel tingly. Oh, they're stiff. Hm. That hurts."

So yeah. That's all I'm writing.

Cheers!

ALLERGIES

I woke up with some really not fun allergies this morning.
I've been sneezing and just sorta sniffling all week, but I woke up to some serious drainage going down the back of my throat.
Yay. Thanks, spring.

Anyway, Mister is no longer lame, I WAS getting him back into work until the seasons slapped me in the face, but I guess that's on hold.

Overall, today has been really, REALLY slow. I've done nothing. Literally nothing.
Except contemplate my self-worth, but I do that every day, let's be honest here.
And, undoubtedly, I'll sit in my room and contemplate my self-worth for the rest of the night.

Yep.

Cheers.

Cinco de Mayo

Fun fact: I am half Costa Rican. Meaning my mother's side of the family lives in Costa Rica, and they were all born and raised in Costa Rica.

I do not celebrate Cinco de Mayo, as it is not apart of my heritage, my history, or my culture.

Guess what.

IT'S NOT A PART OF AMERICAN HERITAGE, HISTORY, OR CULTURE, EITHER.


SO TAKE YOUR PARTY CITY SOMBREROS OFF, AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR BUTT,
AND STOP INVALIDATING OTHER COUNTRIES HOLIDAYS.

YOU ALREADY HAVE APRIL FOOL'S DAY, CHRISTMAS, AND YOUR GLUTTON TURKEY NAP DAY. Y'ALL ARE BEING SELFISH.

Rolex Recap Part 1

This entry is a bit late, but I'll recap anyway.


DAY 1: Road trip was uneventful, just a bunch of McNuggets and bathroom stops because my Aunt Ellen and I have world's smallest bladders. We got to the hotel, (which was next door to a Hollywood Hustler, which I'll touch on later) unloaded our stuff and left for the park. We went straight to the stands to watch everyone warm up, mostly only watching Buck Davidson and Matthew Brown. Liz spent the time trying to get selfies with Buck each time he passed (and we're pretty sure he was intentionally coming closer to us each time) when all of the sudden, MATTHEW BROWN RODE UP TO US, AND GAVE US A MINT TO GIVE TO SUPER SOCKS. OH. MY. GOD. Not only was this fantastic, but he came up to us, and let us feed Super Socks more mints. I think I cried mentally. We got back to the hotel, and waited on Ellen's friends Ell and Sue to check in. Afterwards, we messed around in the pool and the workout room until the Chinese food we ordered was delivered. Nothing else exciting happened.

Big pats

My shirt said "Eat Shirt" and Liz's said "I <3 My Church". We got some weird looks.

This was taken at a bathroom. I kid you not.

Day 2: Yay, Dressage! I've got to be honest, I rarely watch all of Dressage. We watched Lainey, Lauren, Matthew, etc. Anyway, the highlight of the day was Liz standing in line for an hour and a half to meet Michael Jung. It happened, of course, but the Horseware of Ireland lady was super rude so I'm not even going to touch on that. Side note, my mom's friend is a sponsor of Rolex, but he never actually goes, so he gives us his Sponsor tickets, so we all get to be special for three days. We went out to eat at a really cool horse place, blah blah blah, we let Sue drive home, which was an awful idea,

I'll finish this later. My anxiety just kicked in.

Cheers.