So I was in the hospital for 14 hours this past weekend and while I was there, my boyfriend thought it would be funny to take a look at my chart when the nurse left the room. Down at the bottom of the page, underneath the details of what had happened, in BIG BOLD LETTERS, it said:

PT IS PROCESS OF FEAMLE TO MALE SEX CHANGE

We almost peed our pants laughing. The statement was bigger than anything else on the page, including my name at the top. Clearly trying to get people’s attention before they offend me by walking into the room and going, “OH, SO YOU’RE [INSERTBIRTHNAMEHERE], it’s SO nice to meet you!” (Side note: Yeah, even with the gigantic “warning,” that happened a dozen times.) Guess grammar, spelling, and general courtesy are not required for doctors in Massachusetts!

(Source: brotips)

This is the concept drawing for my first tattoo. I’m in love with it.

I left school over a year ago to decide what I want to do with my life. I’m one of the most indecisive people when it comes to important decisions, but I’ve finally decided officially what I want to be when I grow up. Figured I’d let ya’ll know.

I wanna be an interior designer.

This is my little sister that I’ve been writing the posts about. Beautiful, isn’t she?

Tuesday, August 02, 2011 @ 1:33 a.m.

I wrote a post back in July about my little sister and the problems she’s been facing. I’m writing an add-on to that post because there have been some recent developments in her situation.

A spot opened up a few days ago at another rehabilitation clinic in my home state, and the clinic called my mother, asking if Madonna would be willing to check herself in. (State law says a minor cannot be forced into rehab unless they are a danger to themselves or others, so she had to sign the papers willingly.) My sister doesn’t think that she has an addiction and she fought my mom tooth and nail. My father was out of town on a business trip and tried to have a conference call with my mother and Madonna, but she stormed out of the room after they tried to confront her with her behavior and actions over the past year. My father was keeping me updated via facebook chat, as they didn’t want me in on the conversation (they rarely ever do). 

I asked him if he thought Madonna would listen to them and he said no. I know he doesn’t know this, but at that moment, I was looking for reassurance. I was asking him if he thought Madonna would be okay. His response made my heart break, but I was (stupidly) holding onto a shred of hope, praying that she would have some sort of epiphany and realize that she needs to go back to rehab.

After she went to her room, Madonna called her best friend to bitch about my parents. Her friend told her that she needed to go to rehab. Madonna came down the stairs fifteen minutes later, crying, and told my mom that she wanted to go.

My mother hauled ass to that clinic and signed her in before she had a chance to reconsider, so my sixteen-year-old sister is now in rehab for the second time in less than a year.

I’m so thankful that she is getting help, but I really have mixed feelings on this whole thing. For personal reasons that I probably won’t share unless you ask respectfully off anon, I don’t believe in addictions or addicts. My sister is not an addict, and neither was my older brother. I use the words when my vocabulary fails, but I don’t believe them.

Madonna has some sort of underlying problem that is causing all of her behavioral issues. I’m angry at her because she won’t share that with me. I know how that sounds… but we grew up together. I’ve shared my entire childhood with her. We are polar opposites but I respect her more than a lot of people in my life. She’s so beautiful and talented, and I just wish she would realize how much I care. I’ve never been good at sharing my feelings with her, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. 

I have a lot of pent-up stuff going on in my head about her. I’ve decided I’m going to write her a letter while she’s in rehab. I’m just worried it’ll push her further away from me.

I’ll post a picture of her in a few minutes.

T.G.

tangible-boy:

Today is Wednesday, which means I have my random grave shift tonight. It’s also Christie’s birthday party, which means I have to be up earlier than I would like.

Woke up to a message from Omerica Organics. I sent them an ask about their “Missing Piece” plugs that donate a portion of the profits…

I have a couple of reasons for reblogging this post.

1.) I completely agree about Autism Speaks. My cousin is autistic and his parents reached out to them for help, thinking they would receive support for their choice to “parent” rather than “treat” him. They were wrong. Good news is, a lot of parents in their area who have autistic children felt the same way and they started a support group. My cousin loves hanging out with other kids his age who won’t judge him or make fun of him.

2.) I got your comment on my post and I wanted to thank you, but I couldn’t find your ask box and I don’t know your e-mail, so I figured reblogging something would be the easiest way. It really doesn’t matter to me that I don’t know you. It matters to me that someone cares.

(Source: every-inch-but-one)

Where?