counting stars.


Lately I been, I been losing sleep
Dreaming about the things that we could be
Lately, I've been a bit of an insomniac.
My thoughts keep me up at night, restlessly anticipating the unfolding of some new chapter of my life.
I sit by my window some nights, blinds up, and count the stars, and sometimes, I make wishes upon them. They don't come true, the wishes.
Sometimes I hate that.
The fact that you can wish so hard for something, but it never happens.
I wish for things, and whisper them in the darkness, but the quiet October wind carries my wishes away, and they remain unfulfilled.
I wish for silence that is understanding, and not so cold and cowardly.
I wish for an eye that seeks out beauty instead of seeing pain.
I wish for my fingers to cooperate when I sit down to play the piano, and my fingers are choppy on the keys.
I wish for a mug of chai tea and a bit of biscotti.
I wish for the way things could be.
Mostly, on those sleepless nights that come more and more often, I wish for sleep.

i did not take the SAT today.


I have type 1 diabetes. I'm not shy about telling people that when asked what 'that iPod thing' is that just happens to be attached to my hip constantly. Having only been diagnosed a year and a half ago, it frustrates me when people assume I need special treatment/food/etc. just because I'm diabetic.

I was supposed to take the SAT today. And, as you know if you've ever taken the test before, there's an option when signing up for special accommodations for those who have disabilities. I do not consider diabetes to be a disability and diabetes/having an insulin pump was not on the list of disabilities given by the SAT Collegeboard website. And so I checked the 'no' box on that question. I was ready to go. I was a little worried however, because I do know someone who had their pump confiscated during the test because it alarmed, and there was a kid in the same room as my brother who was kicked out for the same reason. An alarming pump that was mistaken as a cellphone. He was kicked out for cheating.

Let me get one thing clear, SAT test administrators: there is no way that I could program my pump to do anything that could be considered cheating. It's specialized to deliver insulin and really can't do much other than that.

I was not allowed to sit my SAT this morning.

To be on the safe side, and not take any chances with having my pump taken away, I informed the test proctor in my room that I had an insulin pump and while it was an electric device, I would only be using it if necessary during the break. He said that he wasn't sure that that was allowed and I was sent to talk to the test administrators.

The SAT Collegeboard website does not say that using special accommodations is mandatory. Diabetes is not listed as something that requires those accommodations. However, when I talked to Sarah the administrator, I was informed that I was not allowed to test regularly while wearing an insulin pump. Her best suggestion was for me to go home and reschedule my test for another day.

I did that. I called my dad, nearly in tears, and had him come and get me. We went and picked up coffee on the way home, and then stopped for Krispy Kreme. While at coffee, we (literally) ran into my pastor, Brad. Brad's oldest daughter is diabetic. We told him our story of being kicked out of the SAT before it even began. He said that the same thing had happened to his daughter. He said that it pisses him off (his exact words, no joke, my pastor swore) when people treat diabetics differently.

The hoops I have to jump through to do things are ridiculous. Driving requires medical clearance, and standardized testing requires special treatment.

And that's what bothers me.

Treating us differently. Do you know what the special accommodations are? They knock off part of the test, extend the time, and give you breaks whenever you want them. It sounds pretty nice, doesn't it? But to me, it's just a reminder of the fact that I'm different. As someone who was diagnosed at a later age, I don't want to be treated differently (and I'm sure that those who were diagnosed at an early age feel the same way). If I get a good score on the SAT, I want it to be because I sat the whole thing and did my best. I don't want it to be because I got special treatment because of this disease. I want to earn it. I don't want extended time and I don't want less work.

I want to sit my freaking SAT without being sequestered away in a room on my own because I'm different. That is all.

squirrels are nature's little speed bumps. [literally.]


On May 7th, 2013, something very big happened. This girl, Bailey Noel, got her driver's permit. (Which was then taken away three days later because apparently diabetics have to get special medical clearance from their doctors before actually operating a moving vehicle. whatever. I think that's stupid, but it's the law and I'm a law abiding citizen.) After three months of waiting around for our notoriously slow branch of the California Department of Motor Vehicles to finally get around to telling me if I was fit to drive or not, a letter came in the mail.

I was cleared.

Cue another month of being too scared to drive which resulted in me not scheduling my driving lessons and quickly changing the subject whenever my parents brought it up.

On Thursday September 12th, I had my first lesson. White knuckling the steering wheel as I drove through the neighbourhood over and over, turning poorly and only going about twelve miles per hour. That was frightening. My instructor was continually telling me that it was okay to go a little faster and that I wasn't going to crash. I didn't believe him and drove at my snail pace.

That's when the speed bump happened. No, not a real one. A live furry one with a bushy tail. A squirrel. 

Cue me slamming on the brakes, my instructor screaming like a girl and almost throwing his phone out the window, and me nearly in tears.


I did not hit the squirrel. My instructor told me that hitting squirrels was acceptable. Just don't ever do that again. Like, ever.

I said okay. That sounded reasonable. Squirrels are scary little speed bumps. They move.

I have no driven since my lesson. I probably should, since I can go for my license test in the beginning of November, but those scary little squirrels (and my instructor screaming like a girl) have me terrified of messing up on the road again. (also I can't turn or back up or anything else safely yet and me being on the roads right now is not wise at all.)

This weekend, my dad is taking me out to go driving following my SAT. (crap, I should probably be studying for that.) I'm praying that the squirrels leave well alone and I can refrain from slamming on my brakes again.