I got a f**ked up haircut today...
Only because I got rid of my A-line bob style to even out my hair and grow it out long again.

But it looks sooooo awkward, it's not even funny (but it may look funny to you if you ever saw a picture )

That is all.

... to challenge myself, as well as continue using my talents by trying new mediums, creating different things, and just keep drawing!

Art Studio today really made me feel artistic, seeing all my classmates with such amazing talent and skills with such mediums (papercuts, -which I dreaded and still do dread- and enconstics [sp?]) and such creativity/imagination placed into their work really made me want to try harder and try new things.

I feel like kicking my AP English, Algebra, US History, Forensic Science and Japanese homework in their asses because all I want to focus on right now is developing my skills which I haven't been doing since I started high school! GRRRR!! *punches The Scarlet Letter in the face*

I got my permit today.
SCORE!
And did 2 hours and 10 minutes of driving, even more score!
What a good day ^_^

I read the entire Oregon Driver Manual in 8 hours within a day.
8 hours straight, with an hour's worth of time of closing my eyes for a little rest, texting my boyfriend, and playing with my cat in between.

And now I feel like my stomach will eat me from the inside out because, well, first I'm hungry as hell, but secondly I'm really hoping I pass the knowledge test tomorrow... The first time I took it back in June I failed by ONE mofo question... ONE! That really pissed me off.
However, it was my fault because I didn't read the manual before taking the test at the time (I had completed the whole thing [not within a day like I did today] when I was 14, and assumed that because I already read the whole thing at the time that I was good to go to take the test at 16... Wrong. My memory proves it), so I just did and I hope it will be better this time!

I'm gonna eat a bowl of salad and sleep man.

The following journal entry will involve blood, laceration (stab wound), stitching, and medical deals of which some of you may not feel so comfortable reading because they may scare you like they did for me.


So Tuesday, I was having a great day with my boyfriend, laughing and having fun and eating together and all that stuff, right? Then at the end of the day, he leaves my house at 9:30 PM to get back home by bike by 10 PM, so I kissed him goodbye for the day, and watched him bike away.

Five minutes later, I walked back into my house, into my room, and decided to put in my iPod on the iPod speakers to listen to some music. They were sitting on my white dresser next to the doorway into my room, and I had my black bean bag chair lying right next to the white dresser.

I decided to drop all my weight onto the bean bag chair because it IS comfy, after all.

But hell broke loose when I felt a -POP- in my leg, and shearing pain at that.

I lifted myself up off of the bean bag chair, thinking, "Ouch!! What the f**k?" and a pair of scissors I left on the bean bag chair from earlier was lodged into my right leg, about an inch below my knee, for a moment, then fell out. I had a deep hole in my leg...

A... A HOLE! IN MY F**KING LEG!! OHHHHH S**T @#$%&*!!

Then, as if it was following along to the tempo of my heartbeat, blood was spilling out from the hole. So much blood, I couldn't believe I was bleeding so much, and I was in shock from the sight of so much blood coming out from such a little wound.

I screamed for my mom to come help me because my dad was asleep, and she wouldn't come right away; I was trying to hold my blood in my hands, but they were dripping over the sides of my hands and leg, and spilled onto the carpet of my bedroom.

When my mom finally came, I started crying hysterically (and trust me on this one guys, I'm not much of a crying person... I actually think I'm a bad crier, if that's even a word) and screaming and just started shaking. I'm not used to seeing such things, I haven't felt so shocked since the time when I was 10 years old and had severe pain in my abdomen that was from possibility of appendicitis. My head felt light and I felt really cold, even though I'm currently living in an area of extreme heat.

My dad woke up from hearing my screaming for my mom, and both my parents rushed to the bathroom to grab band aids, gauze, anything to stop bleeding. My mom quickly pulled out gauze and pressed her hands onto my leg to halt the bleeding. My parents were fussing about what to do next, and they decided to take me to the ER, and my dad mentioned, "Well it looks like she'll need stitches for this..." My dad let my mom handle my leg for a few minutes while I was sitting down on my floor, mom applying pressure on my leg and I'm just freaking out and crying out loud like when I used to as a little girl (it felt weird to cry like that after so many years, but it was absolute pain and traumatic to me).

"Carina, stop crying! You must calm down if we're going to the emergency room! Stop it!" she told me.

"It. Really. Hurts. Mom! Ahhh!! F**k!"

She held out her wrist to me and said, "Look at this. Do you see that scar? I had kind of the same thing happen to me, but on my wrist! You will be fine, now stop crying and get up because we're going to the car!"

I felt even more scared because her scar looked somewhat vicious, then started thinking I was going to have a vicious looking scar on my leg... oh man, why! Why did I leave those scissors in the f**cking bean bag chair!? I'm so stupid!

As my mom was taping the piece of gauze over my laceration, my dad prepared the car for all of us to go to the hospital - I was still freaking out like crazy, having the mindset of stitching that was necessary for my stab wound.

I eventually got into the car, but it took a lot of time because my leg was in so much pain I couldn't walk at all. While driving to the hospital, I tried my best to think about nice thoughts, like cupcakes, or spending time with Erik (boyfriend), but I just couldn't get my mind off of the idea of stitching, bleeding, a puncture wound in my body, going to the hospital in general...

When we arrived, my dad got the idea to put me in a wheelchair because it was so hard for me to walk (I thought that was exaggerating, but it was true that I couldn't walk, it hurt too much) and we signed in for the ER. We were instructed to wait for the doctor to call us in to examine what's going on and whether or not it's like code red or not. We got in for about 5 minutes, just questions asked and the doctor looked at the condition of my wound, then we were told to wait in the waiting room again. I was so nervous to have to get stitches... The first stitches in my life! Am I even ready for this?

I called my boyfriend to make sure he got home alright and maybe talk to him a bit to get my mind over the laceration and image of bleeding. He picked up immediately, and I told him about everything, and he was great to have spoken to me for 30 minutes until he had to leave because his dad needed him to help his grandfather who had fallen and couldn't get back up. I waited for 20 minutes until finally it was my turn to come on back to the emergency room. I felt so much better, and my anxiety subsided by a lot compared to earlier.

Later, I was lying down on the hospital bed, waiting for the nurse to come in and stitch me up. Erik called me back and we spoke on the phone a little bit because the nurse walked in with a cart of stitching materials and pain killer syringe prepared for me - I was instantly shocked all over again. I can't stand needles, and what's worse is I know that I will fidget out of impulse because I hate them so much. But what's worse when I asked the nurse where she'll inject me was that the pain killer had to be injected directly into my WOUND. F**K!! Even worse!!

So I gripped my parents' hands, one in each, while she stuck the needle into my wound. It felt tingly and uncomfortable, but it wasn't as bad as when the scissors got stabbed into my leg, s**t.

Then came the stitching part.

"Now, you will feel some pressure on your leg where I'll be stitching, but you shouldn't be able to feel the sharpness of the needle I'm using to stitch you up, okay?" the nurse told me. I took a breath - not necessarily a deep one - and let her stitch me up. I wanted to think about something nice again, or else I might kick my leg and she would mess up and things would get worse. I asked my dad to ask me questions about anything; they all regarded Erik, haha.

What felt like 10 minutes later, the stitching was done! Yes! The nurse put a piece of gauze that was larger than the piece I used while going to the ER, then wrapped my leg up in a dressing. I'm glad I didn't have to look at the stitches, or else I would have fainted, I just know I would.

I limped out the ER, and my parents and I drove back home. On the way home, I called back Erik to tell him I'm all done, and we spoke for a little bit because my stupid Sprint phone lost signal twice. When we arrived home, I felt like sleeping it all off, I had such a stressful night after having such a good day! Dang! But sleeping was difficult because my leg was throbbing with pain, even when I lied down on my bed. I saw that there was still blood on the carpet, and I got a recap of the whole event that started this whole thing, and felt cold again.


My stitches are to be in for 10 days from the first day I got them, so I should probably get them out by August 9th. I'm hoping I can walk normally before then because after almost three days, I am still limping, and my leg still throbs with each step I take. I have a feeling the scissors punctured more than just through all layers of skin - I think it may have gotten to my muscles. But the nurse would've probably done something more than just stitch it up if I had punctured my muscles as well. I guess with all the weight I dropped directly onto the scissors, it bruised my muscles, and so it's just very sore.

I'd just like to say to you if you read this whole thing (which I'll appreciate much for taking your time to read this gruesome story [well, I think it's gruesome]) that although I trust that you are careful with scissors and have been told when you were little not to play with scissors, I want you to please, please do not place scissors anywhere where you will sit on/kneel on/lie down on even for a moment, because you may think you're going to be alright, but you just never know. No scissors in your bed, no scissors on a chair, no scissors in bean bag chairs (oh PLEASE no more scissors in bean bag chairs). I know this sounds very no-brainer, but I just want to emphasize that it's really bad. Also, no matter what, scissors with blunt ends can still puncture you.