Its Raining.

Dear Reader,

I usually don't do posts like this one, but I'm getting rather desperate. If you rather read something more cheerful, please do. Maybe try reading The Meanest Mom's blog, her posts always make your day lighter.

See, Reader, I have been raining on and off for the past three days.

I didn't want anybody to know why, I don't even think I wanted myself to know, but yesterday Rosetta Stone (my home-bound teacher) came and she got it out of me. My cards were on the table, and they were all blank.

I'm very thankful to Rosetta Stone, because I needed what she did for me. However, now that I openly talked about and thought about the reason for my tears, I can't seem to turn them off very long. My thoughts plague me. I'm starting to become something I'm not and something I never want to be, miserable. Maybe you don't realize this, but it is impossible to be miserable for anybody but yourself. You can be sad for others, cry your eyes out because of other people's pain, you can even pain for their pain for a while, but you can't be miserable for them.

Not to insult people or make anyone feel bad (I don't want any Emo people to go and kill themselves) but being miserable is selfish. That is the truth.

I don't want to be miserable in anyway. So this is why I am desperate. I need help. I can not be miserable.

The storm came three days ago in the form of an IB application. I know, that is predictable, but just wait. I was nervous about it, so my mom read it. I had worked hard on it, it was my third application essay, and what I wanted to be my last. Mom gave me some suggestions about it, and I just started crying.

For your information, I don't like doing this. I do not like crying in front of people, especially when it is because they are telling me that I could do something better. I should be able to take that, I'm not a wimp, so I shouldn't act like one.

I'm the only one in my immediate family that cries much. My parents don't cry, if you catch my mom crying, somebody probably died, and my dad? If my dad is crying then either Brother, Myself or Mom is considerably close to death (in his eyes, which means you are way closer than comfortable) or dead. If Brother cries, then he does it in his room because I don't see him doing it either. I'm the odd one out.

Usually when I cry, I try to cry for other people. Though I do cry for myself way more than I like to, and usually Mom is around so somebody does see me. When I cry for others it is usually in my room at night during prayers. Only God sees me then.

I'm telling you this because I'm desperate, just so you don't forget.

So anyway, Mom gave me her suggestions and I cried. Well, we fix things like that in my family. So I tried to figure out why I had done that to her, apologized, told her the reason, and done. She wasn't mad at me or anything, it was just bothering me so I had to take care of it. That is how I am and how I've been taught, if something is bothering you do something about it. No. Don't just do "something" do the right thing, fix it with the person whom it concerns.

So, I did that. The problem was, I was still bothered.

I woke up Friday, and my aura still wasn't its usual happy pink.

I distracted myself as much as I could. I went back to bed after I woke up, when I woke up again I read a distracting book, I busied myself with errands, tried to get distracted with a Geography text book (it worked better than I thought), and then was making dinner. Everything was alright now, I was distracted. Then Rosetta Stone arrived.

Everything was fine and dandy the first few minutes, until my essay for the IB program came up. I had sent her a copy.

Rosetta Stone asked me if was happy with my work, and I told her I was. So she said, "Are you sure?" and I said, "Yep!" She told me that she had shown it to one of my ex-teachers (the gifted teacher at the middle school) who had told her that she'd seen much better work from me than that essay.

So then we started talking about what was wrong with it. Well, there wasn't anything wrong with it, it just wasn't my best work. There wasn't much of *me* in it, it was written like I had tried to give them what they wanted when I didn't know what they really wanted.

Maybe you should see my prompt for it, so I can tell the story better. PIBS stands for "Pre-IB". Here it is:

"Starting a new program like PIBS can present challenges to anyone. Please answer the following questions to the best of your ability. - What challenges do you foresee if you are accepted as a PIBS student; what strengths do you have to meet these challenges; and what will you as a person be able to add to High School and the PIBS program?"

So we started with the first question, what challenges do I foresee. In the essay I had basically put that the challenges I see are the challenges of the unknown, and that I would do whatever to deal with them when they came up. So we talked about that, I guess I could have given a better answer....

We talked about challenges, we got to thinking out loud about high school and what would be challenges for me. She asked me what I thought high school was like.

So that is when my guts started to spill out. What is high school like? What kind of question is that? How should I know? High school is a product of my imagination, a dream. What is Atlantis like? What is it like to visit a land with unicorns, rainbows, flying pigs with wings, and leprechauns? High school?!

So I started talking. I didn't want to think about high school, I'll keep my memories of middle school locked up and safe, but I don't want any ideas about high school in there. I don't want to think about what my challenges will be if I get accepted to PIBS or if I even get to go to school because I don't want to think about going to school at all. I can't think going is even a real possibility because if I do that and I don't get to go...... "I will die a little." doesn't describe it well enough.

If I keep my brain not thinking about high school, not really considering it as a possibility or anything, just not thinking about it, then I am safe. I can't be disappointed. I can only be happily surprised if I do get to go. If I don't get to go, well then it would be okay because I wasn't expecting to get to go anyway. I can't help but protect myself.

However now with me filling out this application, and the deadline being in 6 days, I can't keep playing my "let's not think about it" game. My mind can't keep me safe anymore.

Maybe if I do all my crying, and drown myself in self-pitty now, then I won't do it later. I will be able to be happy for Brother when he gets to start his first year of high school while I am at home doing the 10th grade with Florida Virtual School. There won't be any sadness left in me any more by then, no more misery.

So I'm asking for help. I'm desperate. I would ask for prayers, but I don't know how much they can help anymore. God knows that I want to go to school, and I think He's doing what He can. I don't know what I need, and I just feel so awful wanting something like this. I shouldn't act like this or think this way. I don't want to. When I do, I think about Polly and Prayer, and I think about Iron Man and his legs, and I know there are way more important things, things so much more worthy of wanting. I get so disgusted with myself, and then I get even more disgusted when I think of asking for help when I'm not even worthy of it because I want something so silly. Iron Man wanted his legs to work, and Polly just wanted Prayer. She just wanted her daughter, and Prayer couldn't stay here.

I'm sorry. I don't know what to do.

I hope you have a great day, and I'm sorry if I made you feel bad. My posts are usually more perky than this. I don't mean to disappoint you.

Love, Miss E.

Busy Me

Dear Reader,

I apologize for not doing a post in so long. You poor deprived dears. I have been quite a busy person.

Mostly I have been busy with school. As I mentioned in my post a week ago, I am trying to get into the IB program. I'm still working on my application for it. Besides that though, I think that Rosetta Stone (my homebound teacher) is trying to test me. She seems to be getting a more, "Do your homework!" way about her. I don't mind really, but now I feel like her homework should be a higher priority than before. So, I've been trying to get all her homework done before she comes every week. That may not sound like much, but when you add that to all my other homework (the kid on the left is my biology homework, he is my offspring, I drew him all by myself), plus odd jobs, sleep, and maintaining my personal hygiene, there isn't much time left to write a fabulously fresh and spunky blog post.

Enough about school though, there are other things keeping me busy. I started a new course with Florida Virtual School. I know that is about school, but it is "Life Management" so it isn't horribly school-like. I've been busy with that too. The chapter I am in right now is concerning self-esteem. From what the course says, my self-esteem is considerably higher than what is normal. I don't really know what to do about that. I'm not going to start cutting myself and looking at the floor when I walk because I'm more awesome than I'm supposed to be.

Okay, now off of school for real. Sunday was Valentine's Day! Brother and I gave all of the dogs (minus Baby) a bath. We did the oldest dog first, followed by Clown, Stinky, Pineapple, and lastly, Piggy. By the time we got to Piggy, we were totally exhausted! However, Brother still cleaned the bathroom, and I still managed to make some Valentine's Mochochino Cupcakes.

Thank you Big Wig and Iron Man for my fantastic chef outfit! I do so enjoy dressing up.

My cupcakes were alright, but were really not much when compared to what Mom made. She made the BEST shish-kabobs. Oh! They were SPECTACULAR!

We ate these wonderful yummies on the table this year instead of the living-room floor (as is tradition) to avoid potential floor germs. We had a table cloth, candles, and wine glasses. Brother and I had sparkling grape juice in ours while Mom and Dad each had 1/2 a glass of wine cooler and 1/2 a glass of juice. My parents don't drink, except when they feel sick they might have a cup.

That was Sunday.

Yesterday (Tuesday) I went to the Family Advisory Council meeting. It was alright, but the most exciting thing for me was that I got compliments from 2 different people on my blog! I didn't even know they were reading it! That just made my heart feel like it was hugging a puppy. So I thank you.

Today is Wednesday and I really should get back to school work. I have a lot to do now and I need to get that IB application done. I have to write an essay. It isn't a bad prompt, it is just a matter of how to write it. It isn't like a blog, you have to follow the rules, but I also want to give it a personality, and I have to answer the prompt. I really have to get it done though because the deadline is getting too close for comfort. So, I will write to you sometime later, dear Reader. I hope you have a great day. Happy start of Lent!

Love, Miss Ellaneous

IB at Home

Dear Reader,

I know I haven't written in a long time, but nothing too exciting and new has been lately. Well, that isn't true, some very exciting things have happened to me, but they seem to only be very much exciting to me. Other people (like you, Reader) don't really find them as extremely wonderfully lovely and exciting as I do. There is something kind of exciting that happened to me today though that is kind of different that you may find a little more exciting, probably not, but maybe. I'm just going to tell you and you can decide how exciting it is later.

Firstly, the things that seem to very much excite me but not so very much excite the majority of my Readers is (of course) my darling donor. He and I have been emailing still and it continues to be very exciting for me, and earlier this week I got a package from him in the mail!

The package was a calendar from his girlfriend's animal shelter. They translated one special for me and then had it printed. They sent it to me and my Donor (I'm thinking that "Donor" would make a fitting code-name) sent a note with it telling me these things. He also said in the note that it was a "premiere" the first of its kind, and the only one ever translated. So, I thought that was really cool. If you want to see more about the animal shelter, click HERE, but it might help if you read German. If you don't, you can go to Google Translate and it can help you a little.

Other exciting things that have happened to me recently that are not having to do with Donor I will tell you now.

Brother had a meeting at the High School regarding the IB Program. Brother has decent grades, so he was invited. IB stands for the International Baccalaureate. The IB Program is an international standard curriculum. The IB Program is supposed to be the home of the 'super nerds'. After about 10 minutes into the meeting, my eyes filling with tears, I told Mom, "This is depressing. I shouldn't have come." I knew that I belonged there, and I thought that I couldn't go. You had to be a freshman to get in.

I did get an invitation last year, but I was unable to do it because of health reasons.

As the meeting continued, the question that I was surely going to ask at some point was answered. The IB Man said, "We do entertain applications for 10th and 11th graders."

Since the meeting, I have been working on my new goal to start the IB Program this coming year. I talked to all my teachers that I have presently, all of which told me to go for it, I am an excellent student, I have outstanding grades, and I would thrive in the IB Program.

I contacted the IB Man today via the phone. He seems very interested in me becoming an IB student. He says that from what he can tell I have everything in my person I need to be successful in the IB program, except for health. This I will have to acquire before this fall if I would like to do the IB program at High School in the year 2010.

I will also need a Spanish class and a Physical Education wouldn't hurt, but he seems to think that shouldn't be a big problem for me.

So, the pressure is on. I must get healthy, if you like, you could pray for this for me. To be healthy with a fully functional immune system before fall of 2010, healthy enough to participate and be successful in the IB program.

By the way while we are talking about this, the exciting news that I had for you is that I completed the first semester of my honors Geometry class. My final grade was a 97, I wanted a 98. I was told that high school is supposed to be much harder though, so I guess if my math average falls one point that isn't too awful. The most horrible part of the whole thing is that I know I could have gotten a higher grade, I could've had that 98, but I failed. That is what makes it so terrible.

That is my exciting news to share, though I still feel I didn't do a good job, I am excited that I actually finished it.

Another thing I wanted to tell you, yesterday was the SuperBowl. I was rooting for the Colts, which you probably know were the losers.

I make homemade pizza for the game. This is a picture of my sampler pizza.

I know, there is no cheese! That is actually not true. I hid the cheese, spinach, sausage, and more cheese underneath that bready goodness. It was soooo delicious. It was GREAT!

However, these were probably better....

These are my homemade Pizza-Pockets. They are stuffed full of pizza goodness, hot Mozzerella cheese that oozes in your mouth with every bite, Italian sausage that bursts with flavor, and just enough Parmesan sprinkled on top to pack a little punch of extra deliciousness every now and then. These particular Pizza-Pockets also had some spinach inside so that there was a vegetable, but you couldn't taste it.

Unfortunately, only Mom, Dad, and I got to have these wonderful treats while they were fresh from the oven. Brother was at a SuperBowl party and didn't arrive at home until after the game. When he did get home, he and I worked on the puzzle that Mom and I had been working on during the game and then we all went to bed.

I hope you all had a great weekend and enjoyed the game! If you are in a country where there is no Football (with the pointy brown ball), then I hope you had a great weekend even without the "Big Game".

Love, Miss E.

Thank You to all the Donors

Dear Reader,

I was going to do a very thoughtful post today about donors, but I just read it all and it didn't turn out as good as I wanted. I'm so sorry to bum you out.

Instead, I think I'm going to do a very simple post with pictures, but still a bit about donors.

I used to have Myelodysplastic Syndrome (MDS). The kind I had was very aggressive and my leukemic cells were reproducing fast. I needed a transplant or I was sure to die. Soon.

I had chemotherapy for 8 days right before transplant, this was to kill the bone marrow that I already had. All of it must die because it was making those leukemic cells that were killing me. If any of it was still living when I got transplanted, it could make those leukemic cells again.

When I got my transplant, the new marrow would have to start growing in me from nothing. It would be like just like a baby.

This is my donor's baby picture.

Patch told me that she had the people take as much from him as they could. This was a one-shot deal, the only match I had that gave me a chance. She really wanted the marrow to take, and the transplant to work. She took the max amount and gave me the max amount. She didn't really care if they sucked my donor's bones dry, he should get over it in a couple weeks or so.

I thought it looked like a lot of bone marrow, and personally I didn't know how it would feel getting all that put into me. I did think about my donor and that getting all of that taken out of him was probably a big deal for him. I knew he would certainly be sore for a few days. I wondered if it was his first time with anesthesia, I bet he was a little nervous.

Soon after we were officially introduced, I forgot about his feelings.

The bone marrow had got caught in traffic and my pre-meds had worn off. Transplant was very painful for me. Patch was in the room, so I begged and pleaded with her to stop it. I just wanted her to turn it off long enough so that she could give me the drugs to put me out. She told me that she couldn't, and it would be over in x amount of hours.

I told my body to stop complaining. It didn't listen, but I made it through the transplant.

Without my donor and his donation, I would be pushing-up-daisies.

Thanks to him I had one of these.

Hopefully I'll have many more.

If you are interested in becoming a bone marrow donor, ask about being put on the list next time you give blood.

Love, Miss E.