Diabetic shock--there's something that is absolutely no fun at all to deal with. Yep, that's right folks, I made my first rescue yesterday.

For those of you that some how missed my moaning, I'm working as a life guard at a waterpark. I was stationed at the river along the fast, shallow section. I heard Michelle blow her whistle three times and I think, "Oh, it must be the dead baby. Chris said he was going to throw it in." But then she blows the whistle three times again, and I realized it was a real emergency, because no one blows three times again for the dead baby. Plus, there's screaming. So I'm off like a bullet. I drop my tube and cap on my way there and jump in. Michelle's at the bottom of the river, trying to haul up this guy. So I drop down too, and together we get him to the surface.

Which is about the time I realize the seriousness of the situation. I swear, my heart skipped a beat. This man was around 300 pounds, which is why Michelle was having such trouble. His face is blue and the rest of his body is starting to purple, and his mouth is filled with blood. We're blowing our whistles like crazy in three blasts, praying our supervisors will get there soon. He hit his head on his way down, so we're trying to hold his head straight and keep him above water. We manage to get him to the side, but there is no way we can pull him out of the water over the high wall. Finally, someone comes with a backboard and we somehow manage to backboard him and get him out.

We were starting our asessment when Chris and Paige finally got there. I have never been so grateful to see my bosses before. They took over which Michelle watched anxiously and pulled herself together and I took over watching the river, telling people everything was just fine and to please move on. The man's wife was screaming the whole time, "What's going on?! What's happen?! Oh God, oh God, what's wrong with him?!" It was really annoying. We were lucky though--a few moments after he was lifted out of the water and laid on his back, he started breathing again on his own. We thanked God for that, because we'd gotten the AED out. I was afraid he had a heart attack or stroke at first--and with his bloody mouth, I was then worried about a seizure. There's nothing I could have done for a seizure.

But he started breathing on his own so I told his family, "He's breathing, he'll do fine. He's breathing." That cleared away most of the crowd--along with my threats to evict people from the park. Christ then ordered me and Michelle back to our stations. After all, with the rescue, there had been no one watching our water. So we resumed our scans.

About fifteen minutes into my resumed station, I realized I wasn't wearing any sandals and my knee was all cut up and bleeding from where I'd climbed over the rocks to help drag up the backboard. As for my sandals--I'd jumped in with them on, and in the confusion they had slipped off. I checked the my water and as much of the water around Michelle's station and River Exit as I could see. Nada. It sort of sucked, you know? I thought I was going to have to spend the rest of the day without them. It sounds really vain of me to say that, especially considering some man almost lost his life that day. I shouldn't have cared about the sandals. It's not like my parent's would have cared, not once I told them what happened. But still, it bothered me. I mean, I have to walk back and forth through puddles of dirty water and across hot rocks all the time. My sandals make that a bit more bearable.

If you haven't realized it by now, I hate my job. Really, really hate it. I can't stand the heat. I get sun-sick really easily. But there I am, standing around getting weird tan lines in that stupid uniform of mine.

On that note, let's not forget that I attended one of the best schools in South Texas. Applauded for rearing the best and brightest in our nation...it's sort of depressing when you think about it. If my school was some of the best that our gender has to offer, our future is mighty bleak.

Oh, did I mention?

Well, Life Teen just won't be the same with out them. Matt & Ernesto have been my priestie-dudes for my whole senior year, but now they have to grow up and go off to their assigned churches for a year. They they come back for a year, then they graduate.

I love them both very much, even though I've showed it through blatant hostility and occasional indifference. But that's pretty much how I show my love all the time, so whatever.

I still remember when Matt & Ernesto were still getting to know me, during the beginning of the school year, and Matt offer to give me an exorcism to rid me of the demons that I was obviously controlled by. I told him no, that was just my personality and he just laughed.

They are a study in opposites, really. Matt is loud and tangles with my sarcasm (of course he loses) while Ernesto is quiet, polite and studious. Matt is from the nameless north (Michigan, maybe?) while Ernesto is from Mexico.

Pollo Fest at the seminary was fun. My grandparents really like Ernesto because he's Hispanic--you know how those things go. I bought a dozen raffle tickets from him and didn't win a thing. The seminarians were selling these little Indian (excuse me--Native American) headbands with red feathers sticking out the back. Ernesto wore one when he worked at the booth and looked a lot like an exceptionally large five-year old, especially since he's been clean-shaven since his confirmation as a canidate-thingy. (Mrs. Brown knows the right name)

Matt was kind enough to meet me at Pollo fest as soon as I got there. He had been sleeping in his dorm since he'd been up late the night before preparing the barbeque, and then work up really early to make the beans. But he woke up and dragged himself out of bed, which I thought was uber cool. He didn't win me a parakeet, which was sad, but it was so much fun seeing him there.

The reason I ask is because we received the short-stories in Mitchell's class today. Eight of them, to be read and critiqued by Wednesday. I'm worried about finishing them in time. I want to do a good job, but I'm worried that I'm moving too slow.

Anyway, one of the stories uses the phrase "her freak ass boyfriend" and I was thinking that "freak ass" should be hyphenated. I worry, though, about my sanity. At no point in a person's life should they have to worry about those types of grammar problems.

Prom, by the way, was lots of fun as soon as we ditched the actual event and left all the phony smiles and awkward words behind.
"Oh, your dress is beautiful!" But you look like a fat cow.
"Where did you get you hair done?" Because it looks like a cat died in it.

I hate it when he's sick. It just tears me up inside to see him suffer and it hurts me even more when I remember how he treats me when I'm sick. He always does his best to comfort me; bringing me blankets and stuffed animals and reading to me. When he was born, he was sick a lot. My family was always fussing over him and I guess I worried a little too, but  I hadn't gotten attached to him yet. After my parents found out he had a learning disablity with the sensory-thing, they did their best to see to it that he overcame it. When I found out, it completely disconnected me from him. I viewed him as the stupid sibling who would never match my intelligence.

Oh! I have a job. Yep, a real paying job--although I haven't done anything yet that merits me getting paid.  I'm going to be a life guard down at Fiesta Texas. Whee! I knew all that certification stuff would help me out some day. And my certification is just as good as anyone else's, even if it was given to me by a drug dealer and his drug-ho. That was an interesting week. Come to think of it, that was exactly a year ago, last Spring Break.

So my mission is to work lots of hours and earn lots of money so I can fix Mortimer and get it out of Frank's body shop. I just hope that's soon and that I don't have to do something weird, like take a second job...(gag)

Where I've been accepted so far:
Cornell College (My #1 choice)
Antioch College
Franciscan University of Steubenville
Catholic University of America
Sam Houstan
Incarnate Word University
University of Alabama

I'm waiting to hear from a hell lot more of them. I applied to a lot of colleges. At least ten.