See? I knew what I was doing!

I was the fastest swimmer in the prelims for the 50 freestyle in Sectionals this past summer. When you're the fastest qualifier for finals, you get to pick out the song that is played before your race. I really couldn't decide which song, and ended up picking the muppet "phenomenon" or "mahnanana" song. A lot of people thought I was crazy, didn't know what I was doing.

Oh, but I knew.

Groundhog Day

I noticed that I haven't posted in a while, and here's why:

It wasn't Bill Murray or Star Trek characters who got stuck in a time loop. That's me. Only I'm getting older day-by-day.

I go to school. I swim. I take finals and swim in a big meet. Summer comes, I swim some more and swim in a big meet. I go to school. I swim. I take finals and swim in a big meet. Summer comes, I swim some more and swim in a big meet. I go to school. I swim. I take finals and swim in a big meet. Summer comes, I swim some more and swim in a big meet. I go to school. I swim. I take finals and swim in a big meet. Summer comes, I swim some more and swim in a big meet....... repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat some more.

How I came to this realization? I looked down and saw I'm still wearing my shoes I got in 8th grade, Doc Marten's with the green shoelaces.

So, why should I write down what's already been written? To see what I'm up to, simply look at some older posts. I guarantee I'm just the same now as I was then.

I can't wait to get out of this loop.

Never Left High School.

I decided last week that I was going to be more involved with the activities that go on. As my luck would have it, there was a Halloween dance at Wheeler Farm. I thought, "I don't really like dancing, but I have a good costume." It is a good costume. Just... a very socially awkward costume for a dance. All the other people either didn't dress in a costume, but dressed nice, or dressed up in nice pretty costumes. Like Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, or the girls from Grease, or in 70's outfits. Here's my costume.

It's pretty awesome, except for the feet. I was tripping over them all the time. Other people were also stepping on them, causing me to trip some more. All this tripping and goofiness was enough to remind me of all my awkward moments in high school. Seems I've never grown up or left.

I mostly sat around, watching people dance, because I didn't recognize anyone. Then I remembered:  It was a night where a socially awkward penguin was on the loose.

Gossip

Oh, man. The past couple days have brought me back straight to my freshman year of college. I struggled. I felt like I didn't fit in, and I struggled with many parts of the workouts. Some team members were cruel to me. Luckily for me, I had friends on the team from high school, and I had family close at hand.

Now take that situation, take away the friends and family. What do you have? Very little.

A freshman this year is being belittled and bullied by the sophomore girls and other freshmen. She isn't in the same dorms as everyone else, thus has fewer opportunities to hang out with the others. This, in a sense, has made her the chicken that everyone else pecks. As the upperclassmen, we didn't know this was going on, because we don't live in the dorms, and we don't have any classes with these little girls.

Our little hen finally had a meltdown Saturday, when it all caught up to her. I felt helpless as what to do to help. I gave her all the support I could, and got the other upperclassmen involved. I even had her talk to Coach, and have her realize he supports her. Regardless, she just wants to go home.

I talked to a good old friend today, and she mentioned she hears the swimmers gossip in one of her classes. They don't exactly say anything nice about this girl, but also, they don't say anything nice about our coach! The person who recruited them, gives them a scholarship, gives them an opportunity to be great! And all they do is complain?

So I will take this as a lesson: Beware of what malice the tongue can do, you never know what kind of impression you're making, and who's listening.

Hidden under the stairs

Newspapers with headlines like "'We're on Our Way,' Shout 2 Astros Leaving Moonship,'"and "Hank Aaron Hits Historic Homer," and "Nixon Resigns, Ford to Take His Place."

Small random paintings

Books dealing with accounting, mathematics, art, music, etc.

Children's books, one's title is "Hidden Trapezes."

The American People Encyclopedia, containing events from the 1950s and 1960s. Civil rights, anyone?

Scattered old notebooks filled with meticulously worked out math problems.

My Grandpa and I have a lot more in common than I thought.

On another note, I guess after pulling everything out I released a lot of spiders. Because as I was walking around, every few steps, it'd feel like a wet spot under my bare feet. After the fifth time of this happening, I decided to look at what was making the carpet wet. I bend down to see a crumpled up dead spider.

Can anyone say yuck?

Childhood is short. Maturity is forever.

This entire summer, it feels like I've been working, working, working. Typical days looked like this:6-8 swim

9-10:30 weights

11-12 class

2-4 swim

4:30-7:30 class.

Well, things are drawing to a close rather quickly this summer, thank goodness! Last night I had the good fortune to hang out with some friends I hadn't seen in a long time. Did we go watch a movie? No. No, we behaved more like young kids, got some shaved ice, and went playing in some parks around Daybreak. My favorite toy will always be the zip line. My very first attempt on it, I thought you were supposed to hold onto it with your hands. I quickly found my whole body dragging in the dirt. So I sat on it. Then I stood on it. And got my sleeve stuck in the pulley. Thank goodness I have short hair. I can only imagine...

I have Sectionals this week, and two weeks after that are finals, and classes are (finally) OVER. I really look forward to swimming a "little" 5k in the gorgeous Lake Coeur D'Alene, and visiting the ocean for the third time in my life.

All this hard work has been worth it. I realize, with surprise, that my swimming career will most likely be over in about 8 months.

Will I finally cease to be introduced as "This is Natalie Edge. She's a swimmer"?

What's next? "This is Natalie Edge. She likes pet chickens."

"This is Natalie Edge. The craziest person you'll ever meet."

...

Sometimes, it's just nice to be a little kid again. Well, at heart, anyway.

"You don't want to touch that!"

Sometimes in weights I get really sweaty.

I mean really sweaty, as in: dripping out of all my pores, my legs, my arms, so I'm slippery as a fish. One of the bad results of this (other than smelling bad and looking like a pig), is that sometimes my hearing aids cease to work.

That happened today. So I took it out to let my ear dry out. I wanted to finish up some lunges, so I set it right next to my water bottle, on a lone bench in the middle of the weight room. I kept a close eye on it from 15 feet away. Some of the boys had to get dumbbells that were in that area. So one of them that had walked over set his water bottle near mine, and he saw it. I could tell, because he gave it about four consecutive glances, one longer after the next. Finally, with his face about three inches from it, he decided to pick it up.

Just to tease, I shouted, "EW! GROSS! You do NOT want to touch that! Do you know where it's been?!"

I have never seen anyone jump so high. Not even mom when I scare her. He basically freaked out and set it back where it originally was. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I had no idea what it was!" And that resulted in 8 boys scrutinizing the hearing aid, while it sat safely on the bench. All I can say is that poor boy was so embarrassed for the next 10 minutes...while wiping his fingers on his shorts. I assured him several times he was okay.

What can I say? I get a kick out of startling people.

Going Bonkers

"You need to eat some more."

"Nah. I'm full. Plus, I'm really, really tired."

"No, you need to eat some more. Your body will thank you tomorrow."

"Look at all I ate!...a whole bowl of grapes, some ramen, two tall glasses of chocolate milk, among other things. Besides, I think my body will be much more grateful to just go to bed. I'm exhaustified."

"Natalie, I know you're really tired, but it's only the beginning of the week. You have many more practices to get through, more classes to sit through. You need to eat food now to have the energy you need for later! At least eat some PROTEIN!"

"UGGGGHHH! I NEED SLEEP!"

PAUSE: There is only one person in the room. That's me. When I'm weary and exhausted, this is what happens in my quiet apartment. I start arguing with myself. Out loud. Sometimes I throw the kitchen rag across the room to make the argument seem more authentic. At least I don't start hallucinating. Is food better than sleep? Or is sleep better than food? I leave the question to you.

Microwaves

I love microwaves. They are very convenient, fast, and easy to use. One drawback for me? The annoying beeping sound every time you touch a button, or when it's done. Or impatient. I am grateful they don't know how to talk yet.

"attention! This lazy person doesn't want to make a real meal, so she's cooking crappy food in here!"

"hot-dog-2-minutes-go."

...(I leave the room to get some laundry folded)...

"HEY! I'M DONE! WOO-HOO! I'LL TAKE MY TIME TELLING YOU THAT!"

"ANYBODY THERE TO GET THE FOOD OUT?"

"THAT'S OKAY. I'LL KEEP BEEPING EVERY 30 SECONDS TO REMIND YOU."

"THIS HOT DOG IS TURNING COLD!"

"HEEEEYYYYY..."

"IT'S A SMALL WORLD--"

"Gaaaaah! Here, got the food, now be silent!"

"You forgot to shut the--"

"Door is shut! Now STOP BEEPING!"

Then his friend the dishwasher starts to sing...

makes sense?

When studying for finals, or when I'm not in season for training hard, my favorite snack and treat is candy. I also love soda.

Now we're training really hard already for summer. I plan little times where I can take a trip to my favorite place: 7 eleven. Their slurpees are amazing. Especially if you get a combination of pina colada and banana. And they have lots of candy. So far, I have just kept driving on by. Why? My body and I agree that it doesn't sound all that tasty or good. What does?

A big huge cold tasty delectable glass of chocolate milk. Or two.

It's the first thing I do when I get home: grab the biggest glass I have (stolen from mom and dad's house because of its awesome size), and pour milk and chocolaty substance into it. And drink. Glass empty? Repeat.

Just to make things clear

There has been some confusion lately about who I am.

I was taking a break from studying recently by running to Harmon's to get some strawberries. As I was hurrying through the store, I realized that two short adolescent girls were following me around. I still have no idea why. They simply asked how tall I was, and I told them "Six feet." As they walked away, I happened to notice they were carrying around some Twilight book.

I'm six feet tall.

I'm blonde.

I have short hair.

Lastly, but most importantly, I can make eye contact with people.

I am not, I repeat, I am not Bella Swan. I know it's really confusing, but let's just make that clear. Besides, I physically (and mentally) cannot be Bella Swan. If I was, both Edwurt and Jacob's egos would be crushed, regardless of their monstrosity.

Another record to note: I'm glad I'm not Bella. Who, in their right mind, would want an obsessed vampire watching you all the time, even in your room while you sleep? Aren't you afraid you'll fart in your sleep? Not me. That'd blow him away. If that didn't work, I could always show him my guns. Which are, by the way, much bigger than his. I know for a fact his abs and biceps are just a work of body paint/spray. They are not real.

Jacob looks huge on the big screen. In person, however...

Let's just say I could take on both of them any day.

Aren't you glad you read this egocentric post?

At least I was amused. I was getting tired of math. Now, a return to studying for finals.

I'm pretty much amazing.

I found out today I can actually cook good food if I'm not too lazy. Slice up some vegetables, sate them, fry some chicken goblets, and dump it on a bunch of rice. There you go. Dinner. (Note: Too much cayenne pepper will fry the tastebuds long afterwards.)

"That looks like a restaurant!"

I noticed that many of my teammates are really excited, nervous, anxious about the big meet next week. (In 6 days if you can believe that!) So instead of being all nice and personal (I don't like talking to people), I decided to draw a pirate's map with a cheesy message. My favorite part? Jack Sparrow. You read correctly. I was amazed I successfully drew a cartoon that could be interpreted as Jack Sparrow. If you took a picture of Jack Sparrow, stomped on it, threw it in water to marinate for 20 years, that's what my Jack Sparrow looks like.



Because I'm so darn proud, I'm treating you to a close-up. (He's glittery because I didn't notice the watercolors I had purchased were the "glitter" version. Dang.)



Oh, and to top it all off, Stephan Pastis accepted my friend request on facebook. I am Stephan's friend.

Are you a nerd or a hipster?

(I didn't really crop the picture because I found it amusing that my Han Solo doll is in the bookshelf, upper left corner.)

I was sitting in one of the hallways in one of the math buildings here at the U. I was enjoying the newspaper, specifically Pearls Before Swine and Robert Kirby, as I was drinking some Pero I had in my thermos. I looked up to see a boy staring at me, and noticing he'd been caught (he was standing 5 feet from me, yeah, I wouldn't notice), he asked me "Are you a nerd or a hipster?" My face must've looked puzzled, because he clarified that my shirt confused him. Here's a bigger image of it: http://blogs.sun.com/kevin/resource/star%20wars%20rocks.jpg (My shirt does not include the caption.)

I know what a nerd is. But I'm not sure what exactly is meant by a "hipster." I looked it up. The first definition states the obvious,

"A person who is hip."

But the next definition made me laugh. Maybe hipsters and nerds have more in common than I thought:

"a person, esp. during the 1950s, characterized by a particularly strong sense of alienation from most established social activities and relationships."

Feeling an identity crisis, I posted it as my facebook status: "'Are you a nerd or a hipster?'-a boy from one of my math classes." Within minutes of writing it, my coach assured me that I was a NERD!

Whew.




Got some free time? "White and Nerdy", a parody of another song. Donny Osmond occasionally shows up dancing in the background.

the process.

Step one: contract the bug. Interact with sick people, play with their toys, etc., if you're lucky, this is the easiest step.

Step two: be innocent and oblivious for approximately 28 hours.

Step three: treat the toilet as your best friend--if you make it in time. It's strange how relieving it is to know you don't have to clean up any messes if your face is three inches deep in the last place you want it to be.

(Repeat step three for approximately 3-4 more times, almost once every resulting hour.)

Step four: Grovel and feel parched on the couch for several hours.

Step five: finally attempt to take that drink that you've been licking your dry lips for--make the mistake of drinking way too much at first.

(Repeat step three.)

Step six: Tentatively try sipping some electrolyte-infused drink.

Step seven: Write e-mails to all the professors you won't be meeting for the first time because of your flu. Get replies saying "too bad. Hope you can get caught up."

Step eight: Take a nice long warm bath to ease your aching muscles and bones. Doze off. Several times.

Step nine: Sit by the fire as you attempt to eat more solid food, like yogurt. It should be about fifteen hours since you first became best friends with the toilet.

Step ten: Be surprised a whole thing of yogurt is staying down, as well as a bottle of vitamin water. Finally take that ibuprofen on that "full" stomach.

Step eleven: Finally get that glass of ice water you've been craving since ten in the morning. Enjoy crunching the ice and letting the water trickle down your throat.

Step twelve: Realize quick movements are still taxing, especially to the head, which has gained about 20 lbs. It certainly feels like one of those dreams where you can't open your eyes.

Step thirteen: Blog about it to people who really don't want to read about this.

Step fourteen: Take a shower, get all cleaned up, and be prepared to go to school the next day.

Step fifteen: Go to bed by 8:30 pm. And pray for luck.


Notes: Thank you dad for coming to my rescue. I really really hope you don't get it in the next couple of days, with me and mom coming down with it. (That's right, Mom! Who never gets sick!)

I honestly don't know how kids who get sick like this can still run around and play. I was on the couch, the bed, the chair, and the floor for most of the day. Maybe it's because they have less mass to tote around?