Cancer is Catching

Pretty sure I have skin cancer, you guys.  I mean, it is the most common cancer and I’m almost certain that we’re looking at basal cell carcinoma, so they’ll just scoop it out and I’ll go on in my life until the next time.  (I’m not like planning the next time, but statistically, given that I’m 25, white, burn easily, burnt a lot as a kid, have a family history, etc., I’ll get hit again.)

I should probably mention that this hasn’t actually been confirmed, persay, yet.  Here is what has occurred:

  • I finally decided this thing on my forehead that my brother has referred to as my “bullet hole” multiple times should probably get checked out, so I made an appointment.
  • Then I researched the heck out of skin cancer and realized that ok, I’m not a doctor, but waaaayyyy more reputable sources than Yahoo! Answers informed me that this is textbook BCC
  • Promptly, I started making skin cancer jokes.  Because it’s an amusing way to ease yourself into the whole concept, as well as those who will be concerned.  Example: Somebody tries to hug you, you say, “Oh, careful, don’t get too close, you might catch my skin cancer!”  Which admittedly is funnier to say than to unexpectedly hear.  So I enjoyed it.
  • I started parting my hair so that it covers my forehead on the side that will be messed with for a bit now.
  • My appointment arrived today.  I decided to only eat chocolate all day.
  • The dermatologist lady asked me if I had ever used a tanning bed THREE times, amongst a zillion other questions which basically confirmed that yeah, I’m like 99.6% likely to get skin cancer at some point.
  • She looked at my bullet hole with like a special old person magnifying glass and said it looks like BCC.
  • She said that they would need the biopsy to tell what it is, but she did not tell me anything else it might be.
  • She numbed part of my head, which was way more comfortable than when the dentist numbs part of your head.
  • She sliced off a piece of my forehead.  When I asked to see it, she was like, “Oh, honey, I already put on the bandaid!” And I was like no, I want to see the thing you shaved off.  It looked kind of lame.
  • She told me all about how to take care of the biopsy site and what scarring might look like for that site for the biopsy and for a full removal.
  • She gave me a pamphlet about skin cancer.

I’m feeling pretty confident about this diagnosis, you guys.

At least it “basal cell” is a pretty adorable cancer name.  And realistically, thank goodness it’s curable.

So then I sent a snap chat of my giant forehead bandaid to a handful of people being like, “Probs have skin cancer” which prompted this fantastic millenial text exchange:

Brother: Are you making a joke or are you telling me serious news on snapchat

Me: I already sent you two more snaps explaining!



...And then I drew a shark on my bandaid.

…And then I drew a shark on my bandaid.



BSE might be BS

The other night, my brother sent me a SnapChat of my Facebook profile with my job title, Associate Software Engineer, circled and a comment about my not having a BSE.  It prompted this conversation:

Me: Fact of life: you can be an engineer without ever having taken a physics course.

Him: Physics is for physics majors

Him: And rules are for fools, but that’s not relevant

Me: I don’t even have a BS

Me: I have a BA

Me: I am a mathematical artist!

Me: Which is basically the definition of engineer.

Him: Engineers are problem solvers

Him: You are a liar

Me: That’s like all math is.  Problems.

Him: Idk if you are stuck up enough to call yourself an engineer

Me: Math is about solving impossible problems; engineering is about solving solvable problems.  So… suck it.

Me: #semicoloninatext

Me: #usedcorrectly

Him: Correctly but not necessarily.  Semicolons are used to connect an independent clause to a related dependent clause; like this.

Him: Or two related independent clauses.

Me: You know the correct rules, but neither negates my use case’s validity

Me: My awesomeness and I are going to bed.

Him: I’m telling your boss about this tomorrow

Him: And then I’m telling mom



25 by 25

Shortly after I turned 24, a friend of mine asked me about my “25 by 25” list.  According to her, this is a list of things for your 24th year — 25 things you want to do before you hit 25.

Okay, I said.  Except that my list might not be entirely things for this year.  I kind of see it as half things I want to do this year, half bucket list for my first quarter century of life.  Some of it is stuff I’ve done and I’m proud of.  Some of it is just stuff I want to try.  Some of it, admittedly, is sort of on my to-do list (the fun part of the to-do list, though!).  Some of it is stuff I’m a little late to the game on.

Anyway, here’s my list:

    1. Go streaking
    2. Go skinny dipping
    3. See Pacific ocean
    4. Take a road trip
    5. Get a cat
    6. Lose the v card
    7. Learn to wakeboard
    8. Learn to drive
    9. Go to casino
    10. Go to valley fair
    11. Go to concert
    12. Make french silk pie
    13. Go berry picking, make jam
    14. Buzz head
    15. Go to a school dance
    16. Go to Mt. Rushmore
    17. Go to the trampoline place
    18. Finish a quilt
    19. Learn to play ukulele
    20. Visit Eric
    21. Visit Megan
    22. Go to Europe
    23. Do a shot
    24. Make a real live used webpage
    25. Ride a motorcycle

6 months to go.


After a whole month without.  I sound extra whiny when I say such things, but seriously, finals week was difficult.


I also have this lovely beast:


Sleeping on Eric's bedding for the week, thus ensuring he (Eric) gets hives.

Sleeping on Eric’s bedding for the week, thus ensuring he (Eric) gets hives.

How Doubt Manifests Itself

You guys.  What if I’ve lost my funny?  I think I’ve lost my funny.  Shut up, Eric, I did have funny.  And I do have friends.  Little brothers are so overrated.


It has completely disappeared.  Just like my Pokemon Gold version for Gameboy color, which I lost on a roadtrip out to the East coast for a wedding of some cousin.  I was little, okay?  I don’t know what cousin it was, but I do know:  I LOST MY POKEMON GOLD CARTRIDGE, and it has NEVER shown up AGAIN.


It still haunts me.


What if my funny is gone FOREVER?  I feel like Little Bo Peep.  I have lost my sheep, they are funny sheep — I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO FIND THEM!


Are funny sheep the same as black sheep?  Because I think you can probably have lots of funny sheep, as opposed to one per family, and I also imagine that funny sheep are not too wild about you shearing them down to take three bags full of their wool.


Maybe that’s what happened to my funny!  Somebody sheared it!


Wool grows back, right?


FYI, sometimes I write blog posts ahead of time, like the night before.  This is what my brain looks like after bedtime.



How to Live Your Dreams

I still haven’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up.  I have, however, stopped saying “if I grow up,” because this whole growing up thing feels pretty inevitable — no matter how much I protest, it’s happening.


This is concerning because I’m starting school again, for my MLIS.  (That’s a library degree you guys.  And based on my first two assignments alone, I am willing to bet you have no idea – like I had no idea a few days ago – how totally complicated libraries and the realm of information are.)  I love school.  I’m pretty dang sure I want this degree.  …I haven’t exactly figured out what I want to do with it, though.  I need a specialty, an area of concentration, and then a plan based on that.  And likely, to wait for somebody to die for a job to open up.


Here are some things I know I do want:

  • a cat in June.  That is so happening.
  • to stay in Minnesota for the foreseeable future
  • to continue to write a superior blog to my sister’s
  • my siblings to see their dreams realized


I have no idea what this last point means for Eric, but for Megan, it should be very entertaining.


For a very long time, Megan wanted to be a dalmatian when she grew up.

For a very long time, Megan wanted to be a dalmatian when she grew up.