Babies don't go clank.

I think that line is from The Thief and the Cobbler, a really bizarre precursor-to-Aladdin-by-twenty-years movie my roommate and I watched one night (I think that is its origin…). Just, you know, in case you couldn’t figure out on your own that babies, in fact, do not go clank.

Speaking of babies, when I worked at Starbucks this past weekend, my boss’s partner brought in their four-month-old baby, Tate, which was incredibly exciting. For a while, mostly in high school, I swore off babies. Why would I subject my poor body to that?! But as I got older, I started seeing more babies around me (along with engagement rings—I swear, you’d think everyone is engaged to one another at Montevallo but I guess that’s just the way college is since we’re all ‘adults’) and I began thinking logically. You know, a baby will be nice, when I’m ready and have the means to support him/her, etc. And as my sister Sherrié said, “Babies are nice, but then they grow up.” She adores her children (Justin, 13, and Regan, 8—when did they grow up?! I held Justin when he was born! Ahh!) and wouldn’t trade them for anything, but she said that sometimes she wished she’d been more prepared for the whole ‘spending 17 years more with them both’) thing. So, point is, I’ll probably cave at some point and have a baby, but it will be (hopefully) years from now, and after I’ve gotten the chance to travel around (like I’ll ever have enough money to do that, but maybe with a Ph.D. I can do something nice?).

For a total change of topic, this whole having-another-seizure thing is really annoying. I completely understand how my dad must have felt in the last months of his life when he couldn’t drive anywhere. Driving is such a part of life we really take it for granted until we can’t. I feel like a burden now to my mom, who has to drive 40 miles to come pick me up, take me to a billion doctor appointments, then drive me back, then drive herself back, and…well, you can see how I would get easily discouraged and thus feel like a burden. My MRI and EEG tests came back yesterday normal (“It looks like everything’s okay” as the nurse put it) so why the hell can’t I drive? I’m on Keppra to prevent another seizure, so what’s the problem? Point is, I went five years without another seizure, and the day I had it was the day they injected radioactive iodine in me, so coincidence? I think not. I know I’m not on a slew of medications like my mom and grandmother are, and that my dad was on, but I hate having medicine to have a properly-functioning body. It makes me feel defunct, like I shouldn’t be allowed to do a lot of things. Sprintec (Orthocyclen) to not be miserable two weeks out of every month, Methimazole to hopefully help the first one because of a hyperactive thyroid, Sertraline (Zoloft) to not be depressed about everything under the sun (which doesn’t help half the time, but okay), and now Keppra to prevent seizures. Oh, and also, Imitrex because I have frequent migraines (including an incredibly debilitating one yesterday), and Ponstel for horrendous cramps. Thanks, body! I love you too!

I guess I will be glad that I am alive, and don’t have cancer like my poor dad, aunt, grandmother, great-aunts, etc., all did, and that I don’t have more frequent seizures like my grandfather did, and that I am able to have children when I do want them, but good God.

Anyway, I guess this turned into more of a ranting/anger post, but oh well. Next up to come: politics and why I think Barack Obama won in Alabama as well as my reasoning on why Larry Langford sucks.