Doing things!

I’m sorry. I know it’s been a really really long time since I’ve actively updated this business (and I don’t really count my IKEA Bus posts, even though that’s probably why most people haven’t bothered to unsubscribe yet). For a while, I was just taking a breather from writing. I think I ran out of ideas, and out of energy to make new ones. Unpaid blogging, yo, it’s exhausting. For a long time, I didn’t want to write (or do anything) at all. But after I watched all the good shows on Netflix (I’m 3 seasons down on Orange is the New Black), I managed to pull it together for a few scattered creative endeavors.

So today, on what accidentally happens to be the 6th anniversary of this blog (because I’m a dork and I put “blogiversary” on my calendar), I thought it was time to kind of update what what I’ve been up to these days. Sort of a kindergarten style show-and-tell of my last 3 years.

GETTIN PAID.
I originally moved myself over to MaineToday.com (the final death rattle for Broke207) thinking that I could blog for them for money. But I was hitting the peak of my emotional tuckered-ness at that point, and I just could never meet the quota that they wanted me to write. I was so ashamed about falling short that I never billed them for what I did write. Which, is too bad, because I wrote some pretty good stuff for them.

But, this January (amidst the Phoenix vs. Dig meltdown situation), I got surprise recruited to write for the Phoenix (after all their regular staff abandoned ship). I’ve got a monthly column called “The Register” where I sort of write about what I used to write about here. Say what you will about the Phoenix and whether or not you think they’re a-holes, but they let me write what I want and they send me money in the mail every month. It’s nice. And, even though I’ve been writing publicly for years, my dad seems to think that this means I’ve finally “made it.”

MAKING OUT.
I might have also found myself a pretty spectacular boyfriend during my 3 year absence. There are a lot of things about him that are great that I could list, but I don’t want you trying to steal him, so I’ll keep it to myself. What I will say is that we see a pantload of movies together. And after 3 years of hitting the Nickeoldeon at least once a week, we decided that we should write about it (even if nobody else ever reads it). On Movie Makeouts we both write separate reviews of the same movies (he’s smarter and more analytical, and I swear more and make more snarky comments about people’s hair). We also have a plan to watch every single movie ever nominated for a Best Picture Oscar (all 524 of them), an do a series of one-line reviews for movies so bad that they don’t deserve more. It’s a super new work-in-progress, but where I’ll be focusing most of my writing chi for now. So, if you miss me, you can find me there.

SOME OTHER JUNK.
Then there was all this other wonderful/awful stuff:

I wrote, directed, and produced my first play ever for Portfringe this year. It’s about realizing that you hate someone you used to love (plus there’s a puppet).

I told some embarrassing stories at The Corner (which is an incredible Moth-esque monthly story night in Lewiston that you should go to)- One was about kissing a boy named Virgil, and one was about getting divorced and getting fat.

I had a hysterectomy (exactly as unfortunate as you think), got a fancy new job but had to leave one that I really loved, and found a new apartment that I can afford all by myself. I met this guy. I got a Nancy Drew tattoo. It’s been a weird 3 years, and I’m still trying to figure out why I’m 38 and not impressed with myself yet.18 year old Allie figured she’d be famous by now (or at least have her driver’s license). I’ll keep trying.

NSFL: uterine artery embolization is horrible and disgusting PART I

having spent the last several weeks digging through the internet (which seems surprisingly small sometimes when you can’t find exactly what you want) looking for detailed accounts of the uterine embolization process, i had it in my mind before i got down to surgical business that i would write my own detailed personal account of the procedure. i could entitle it something hopeful like “surviving uterine embolization” or encouraging like “UFE is not so bad after all”.  like a fibroid filled sacagawea, i could guide the women of the internet through this harrowing territory, and safely out to the other side.

FUCK THAT.

as you can see from the above title, my rose colored glasses got ripped off my face on friday morning, and immediately smashed into powder. perhaps someone spit on them for emphasis. when the only other choice is hysterectomy, and you’re 34 years old and not ready to potentially catapult yourself into premature menopause… it isn’t really a choice. and truthfully, despite the fact that i’m just now starting to not be completely bedridden, it’s still probably the choice that i would have made. but seriously… WHY DIDN’T SOMEBODY TELL ME?!

if you have a weak stomach, are eating at the present, or possibly might be interested in having sex with me someday… i would recommend not reading any further. however, if your uterus looks like a little like this, and you’re not ready to have that fucker removed completely…  here is what you might be in for. 

my lovely lady lumps: adventures in uterine fibroids.

i am not an animal!

have you ever seen one of those “i didn’t know i was pregnant” tv shows where the lady doesn’t know she’s pregnant until she’s in the delivery room with what she thinks is appendicitis? well, i have. so imagine that you’re me. imagine that you’ve seen A LOT of those types of programs, and that you’re also kind of a hypochondriac. you’ve sworn off web md entirely because maybe it gives you panic attacks sometimes.

now, imagine that you’ve noticed that your abdomen (despite some recent weight loss) has become quite bloated. and when you press on it, you feel something hard and round. imagine that when you lay on your back and look at your stomach, it is notably distended to one side. you might ask a friend or two to palpate your uterus area. you might start palpating your own uterus area obsessively, and work yourself into an anxious frenzy imagining that there is a baby or a tumor or a dinosaur egg in there.

but that’s crazy, right?

i had my yearly physical coming in two weeks, and i spent the entire time bouncing back and forth between utter panic, and feeling like a idiot for thinking that anything at all was wrong (with panic winning out in the final few days). i almost went to the emergency room on at least 3 occasions.

but it’s probably nothing.