2:40 AM and All's Not Well

I don't know if it's happened again or if this is something new, something I'll pull through. I've been very unhappy in this, my second semester at college. I was terrified this would happen. Again. In my second year of online classes, my senior year, I lost all drive to keep going. I think part of the reason I did this was because online classes were no longer new and exciting by the second time around. So, even though I was terrified I'd lose motivation in my first semester, I knew it was even more likely in my second semester of college. In my senior year in high school, I WANTED to do well in school. I really did, but I just couldn't bring myself to try. It was so much easier to sleep, and that's what I ended up doing most of the time.

It hasn't been quite THAT bad this semester, but still, I've been unhappy, and it's quite a loss to go straight from being okay one semester to decidedly sad the next. I wrote a post on this earlier in the year, but never got around to editing and posting it. Maybe I will later. Anyway, I started off this year depressed in big part thanks to losing my friends. My cafeteria friend and particularly my friend J who ditched me for her other friends and hasn't called or texted me once this year. I still have my other friend in the dorms and my other friend in electrical engineering and a couple other people who's company I enjoy, but I can't really talk to any of them. I certainly can't go over to their rooms in the middle of the night to chat and relieve my anxieties, like I used to do with J. Everyone else keeps somewhat normal hours.

In a word, lonely is what I've felt this semester. Utterly lonely. And sad. It's not unfamiliar to feel this way. I used to at home all the time, but I find myself wishing I was at home at lot this semester, because at least there, there's someone around, someone making noise, someone I could say SOMETHING to any time I felt like, even if it wasn't a very nice something. This year, there's no one nearby that I could go up and say hi to. I often feel like, at any one moment, no one knows where I am or how I'm doing. I could be dead, all tied up in garbage bags in a dumpster, and no one would know.

Basically, I'm not feeling so well this semester. Academically, I've been doing fine, I suppose, but then this weekend happened, and I got sick. It was a three-day weekend I've been looking forward to since Day 1 of this semester. I got to go home, see a movie, eat out, and I was supposed to do homework too, but I didn't. It was very stupid of me. Because yesterday, I got sick. My mom brought me back to the dorms. I spent a miserable night doing a crappy job of writing my lab report while my nose was congested and my throat stung and I tried to grab a couple Z's as well.

Today, I was tired and sick, so I emailed my teacher to say I wouldn't be in class today. I didn't feel that bad about it because I only have one class on Tuesdays and nothing really happens in it. I tried to sleep all day, and got a few hours, and felt better than I had in the morning, but still not good. I got up to do a few things I had to do, then I came back to my room and tried to do physics. But I slept. And then physics just seemed really hard, and I knew I couldn't get all my homework done and I got very frustrated. I knew I could do it if I wasn't sick physically. I could even do it if I wasn't sick emotionally. But seeing as I am both, I won't get through it. Not tonight.

And then, finally, the tears could come. I need to do my physics homework because the quiz tomorrow will be based on the homework, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. I need to do my calculus homework because supposedly this homework set will take a long time and I'm only going to get more homework tomorrow and I have a quiz on this stuff on Friday, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. I needed to do my chemistry homework because the quiz tomorrow will be based on THAT homework, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. But I need to get some sleep too because I'm sick and I won't be able to do well tomorrow if I don't get any sleep and I'm sick. I need to get some sleep to even be able to do this homework, because I feel too awful to do it right now. And I don't see how I'm going to make it through college at all if I'm going to be feeling like this all the time. Like crap. This is senior year all over again. I'm already so behind, and I'm going to lose motivation to catch up, because it's going to seem too hard for me. I'm going to fail college. This is what I was thinking. Part of it.

I often cry when I'm sick. I can't stand being sick, especially when my nose gets all clogged up and my whole face aches because of it. It wasn't even that bad, though, this cold. I wasn't in THAT much pain. But it was everything that was adding up, piling on: my loneliness, my homework, my despair, and my physical discomfort. I wished the cold would go away. I wished I could get my homework done. I wished I didn't have to be scared of losing motivation. And I wished most of all for someone. You know, someone. I wished -- no, I WISH for someone who didn't care what time of night it was, who'd come to me from however far away they were RIGHT NOW WHEN I NEEDED THEM, who'd hold my hand and rub my back and talk to me and let me cry. I feel so pathetic for crying. I feel like everyone else is happy and smiling and getting on with their lives in spite of the pains we all have to endure, and I'm crying over a stupid cold. I wish for someone who'd show me they still love me in spite of how weak and pathetic I am with tears pouring down my face.

I paced around my room, blowing my nose constantly and loudly and hoping everyone who heard assumed it was only my cold and couldn't hear my sobs. I briefly kind of almost considered calling my mom and telling her how sick and unhappy I am and how I want to quit and come home. But I know what she'd say. She'd tell me to keep my chin up and press on for just another three weeks and then we could see each other again over spring break. She'd tell me, "What do you want from me?" She's not the kind to consider driving two hours in the middle of the night in the middle of the week to see someone. I can't really blame her, when she has so many problems of her own, real problems, and she has a job she needs to be at in the morning. But if I'd called her, I'd be exactly where I started, except I'd also be humiliated. You know, like most people, I've never had anyone who would be there for me exactly when I needed them and know exactly what to say. I've never had anyone who could actually help me with my problems.

But, God, I wish I did.

Anyway, I blew my nose raw and cried my eyes sore, and now I have a strong feeling my face is going to look like a marshmallow tomorrow. So I'm going to have a sick day. It should at least be interesting. It's the first one I've taken. I don't really consider today a sick day, because I only had one class. But I have four tomorrow, and I'll be missing a lot of important stuff in all of them, quizzes and such. And I still have my homework I was supposed to have done by today, so I'll have to work twice as hard. Hopefully, I'll get over my cold through the night and be able to do that. It would also be nice to sit in bed and watch movies, like some people do on sick days. But then, you see? Isn't this like my senior year? I'm skipping classes when it seems they'll be hard to go to, and I'm thinking instead of watching movies in bed. I hope to God it's not going to happen to me again. (I'm not using the Lord's name in vain anywhere in this post. I'm actually saying it to God. Just so you know.)

Good night.

Gravestone: Not a Post as Morbid as It Sounds

I had a funny thought today that wasn't really related to my day or this post, minimal relatedness really. I thought, "I don't want my gravestone to say that I didn't cry enough." By "didn't cry enough," I don't mean, "didn't suffer enough." Everyone suffers more than enough, but not everyone lets herself cry for it. I don't. I never cry in front of other people if I can help it, because I know how gross I look when I cry. I don't even cry when I'm alone, because it makes my eyes puffy for hours and I don't want people to see that. I do cry, a tear or two, but I fight it very hard and give myself a headache trying to hold back tears, until basically I forget about my sadness.

It never leaves you, though, whatever event made you sad. You'll always be sad when you look back on it. And if you expend all your energy fighting the sorrow at the moment it hits you, you won't be able to let the sorrow out. Who wants to die knowing they went through life all twisted up inside with no release for their sorrow? Well, even knowing this, I probably won't start crying any more, but it's interesting to know.

A couple weeks ago, I was feeling sad and realized I hadn't cried yet, for any of it: my life changing, moving out of my old house, all the hard parts of coming to college. I hadn't cried one tear, and a couple of weeks ago, I felt like all those tears had welled up inside me in addition to the new ones coming in. So I actually planned to have a good cry that weekend, a good cry I never did get to, but anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, my day today.

Today, I had a chemistry lab I'd been stressing about for a week or two, since I realized they would expect us students to know much more advanced material than we do. I spend the last week reading ahead as much as I could and still not understanding what we would be doing in lab.

I was doubly scared about this 1 credit 3-hour lab class because I CHOSE it. It's not required for my major, electrical engineering. It's required for a minor in chemistry, which I decided to pursue because I like chemistry and because I believe it will help me in studying nanotechnology, which I plan to do in graduate school.

Now, no matter the area of life I'm dealing in at the moment, I'm scared that I'll make a decision that will prove stupid and show everyone that I can't make smart decisions. Therefore, whenever I make a decision of my own, I feel extra pressure to make it work because I need to prove it was a good decision. I hate to suffer for my decisions because, after all, if I suffer for them, they must have been bad decisions. I was thinking, though, that I really should be proud to suffer for my decisions, because at least it means that I made decisions. It is far better to suffer for your choices than to sit and rot and let the world decide everything for you.

Still, regarding this chem lab class, I was (still am, really) additionally scared that, if I did badly in it, it would prove my nano-technology dream is deluded and presumptuous and laughable, that I have no talent whatsoever for chemistry. If I did badly, I thought that would indicate that I'm not meant to do it.

Today in lab, I did badly. Very, very badly. It is just one session, but still, crash and burn. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but it was still humiliating. I looked like an idiot, I doubt I can get an A in the class now. I came back to my room from the lab and cried a little. I told myself the usual: life is a bumpy road, and if everything went smooth, well, I suppose we'd all be okay, but it wouldn't be much of a STORY. This is my story. It wouldn't be very exciting if I didn't have to face hardships. I believe all of that, and I didn't feel like one bad lab was the end of the world, but I was upset.

And then the thought entered my head that...maybe this bad lab doesn't mean I'm not supposed to minor in chemistry or study nanotechnology. Maybe it means I'm supposed to want that future badly enough push through this. And I do. I'm not going to quit.

I'm not sure if I've said this before, but I'm a real quitter. Or I was. I used to quit at everything I thought was too hard for me: senior year, my first job, etc. It was only recently that I recognized my ability to not quit, to keep showing up even when it's hard. I don't want to lose that ability now. I'll keep trying at this lab class and, if I fail, I fail. (Even so, I'm looking into CLEP tests so that I can earn enough credits to keep my scholarship and financial aid if I do fail a class.)

Alright, well, happy weekend...I guess...I'm having trouble coming up with a closing statement. Oh! I know. Here. This song. It rocks.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 5

In Part 4, I talked about how I was alienating people...

On the bright side, since I've started school, I've felt -- maybe not closer to -- but different about God. In a good way.

I started to feel like He was helping me out. I always KNEW He was, but I hadn't FELT like it in years. I felt like I, and only I, was helping me out. But then when school started, I'd get "lucky" on a day my teacher's assistants did a surprise check on our notebooks and I'd filled out my lab notebook an hour before class. I'd feel like God made that happen. Or I'd feel a tickle in my throat and sincerely pray I wouldn't get sick, and I wouldn't. I'd feel like God made that happen.

Actually, I can't remember the first time in the school year I sincerely -- SINCERELY -- prayed for something and got it, but it was that that convinced me that praying helps. So I started doing that a lot, and it seemed like every time I did, everthing turned out right. I'd pray before exams and I'd do well on them. I know it's because I was studying hard, but the important thing is that I felt like God was helping me. He was helping me to study, to avoid making stupid mistakes on exams, and to adjust to college life at all.

I have to admit I was pretty amazed at myself for slipping into a college routine as easily as I did. The dorm rooms, the showers, the cafeteria food, all the stuff I always thought would be a nightmare. It was nothing. I truly believe God made it possible for me to adjust to it. It feels really good to truly believe.

I prayed that God would help me pass every class with a B or better in order to keep my scholarship, and He's done just that. When I wrote my first draft of this post, I was still waiting on some grades, but I knew I'd still believe in God if I got less than a B in anything. It would be because He decided it was for the best. But I'm REALLY glad He decided it wasn't. Thank you, God.

That's the long and short of it, folks. If you're reading this, I think you're great, especially since posts have been so scarce lately. I know that my latest posts have almost exclusively focused on ordinary life goings-on. I usually prefer heftier topics, but when I got on break and wrote a rough draft of this 5 part post, the last few months were burning on my mind. I almost want to apologize that, looking back, I myself am not terribly excited about these last posts. Not that I don't want you to be excited about them. If you liked any of these posts, please tell me I'm wrong and they're the most fascinating thing on the face of the planet. Planets. ALL OF THEM! =)

In a few days, I'll have school again for four months, and then,summer, at which glorious time I should be able to post again. So don't give up on me.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 4

In Part 3, I talked about my college friends and how much I enjoyed them until they started alienating me and I started alienating them back.


I know from experience it's stupid to immediately and fully reconcile with friends who keep hurting you. It hurts more every time. It's far better to distance yourself from them until, when you do reconcile, you don't reconcile as friends but as people.


Still, I felt really mean one day when I passed by my friend (the one who found other friends; let's call her J), who was coming back from yet another dinner she went to without me. She obviously wanted to talk to me. She turned to me a little, and appeared to expect me to come to her, but I kept walking. She looked hurt. Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do, and it does help you feel better eventually, but in the midst of doing it, you might feel guilty. Maybe I am guilty, but I feel reasonably justified right now. I mean, she's not a bad person, but she's not a terribly good person, either. She did one thing in particular that really bugged me, but it's another post entirely.


Speaking of people I alienated -- there was also (yes, also; is there no end to the list?) my old cafeteria friend. Let's call him, what? M?


M finally said something to really irritate me. I'd been going to lunch and dinner almost every day (and gaining weight) because I liked seeing him. I always went with my friend J, too, because I liked the way she and he snarked at each other. I really liked him as a person, mostly because of how accepting he was.


I never like-liked him though, and I think it wore on me how he seemed to like-like me. Furthermore, by the time he really annoyed me, I'd come to realize that he wasn't the original I thought he was. His dad's an addiction counselor or something. M's just being the person his dad raised him to be. So after he irritated me, I stopped going to see him. I still saw him now and then, but I didn't go to see HIM, just to eat. And you know what? My guilty truth is that life felt quite a bit easier. Except when I felt like scum for hurting his feelings.


See, for weeks and weeks, I'd been going to see him even though I knew he felt differently about me than I felt about him. I didn't even want him to stop feeling that way because I didn't want to lose the extra attention he gave me. I was selfish and horrible, and then I just stopped, which was also selfish and horrible. I knew that he had feelings, that he noticed I didn't go see him anymore, and that he'd feel abandoned, like I feel when people ditch me. (Then again, I've been wrong about him before. Can I hope that he didn't feel that way?) I felt at one point that I had to go to him and explain, and I think that might have been a good idea if I had figured out a good way to do it. But on the day I went, he was downright chipper and said he was having a good day. I needed no other excuse to back out. He was doing fine without me. What would I have said anyway?


Maybe I'll write more about what he actually said at a later date, but for now that's the silly, guilty story.


Maybe I was alienating a couple people, but once I distance myself emotionally from people, I live more in harmony with them. The other girl (who's not J) on my floor really is nice, nice and grown up; she knows a good friend when she sees one, knows a snob when she sees one, and knows she herself is not perfect either. I find I like that kind of person, mature, humble, accepting, smart. The other electrical engineer possesses many of these traits too. But none of the people I've met could be my True Friend, and I think it's okay that I've distanced myself from them.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 3

In Part 2, I talked about how I enjoyed living alone in college.


I also enjoyed the friends I made. I met another girl in electrical engineering and two girls on my floor of the dorm. For a while, I believed that I'd found kindred spirits. "All this time," I thought, "I just had to go somewhere new to find some people who behave the way I think human beings should." Of course, in the back of my mind, a voice told me it couldn't last forever, and that voice is always right. Everyone disappoints me until I develop more realistic expectations of them.


One girl said something kind of twisted about tying me down in the yard at night until I understood I'd be fine (this was her response to me saying how scared I was to walk around campus at night). That hurt, but I stopped hanging out with her for a while, and it was fairly easy to change my idea of her.


The other electrical engineer sometimes ignored me. Not in a mean way. But, say, I'd sit down next to her and wait for her to say hi, but she wouldn't. Maybe she was waiting for me to say hi too. Neither of us would then. Most of the time, we get along fine, but because of those now-and-then moments, we grew apart.


People in general stopped being their strangely friendly selves. I think they got tired and their grades worsened as the year went on. At first, I thought it was weird how nice they were, but after they stopped, I missed it.


In particular, I grew pretty close to one of the girls on my floor. We were in classes together, and we always walked to and from those classes together. We were both slow at our work, usually the last people to finish labs and tests. When I finished slightly before her, I'd wait for her. She did the same for me once. I'd help her with homework and studying, and she'd let me use her mini-fridge and printer. We were both usually the last ones to bed, as we were up all night doing schoolwork and helping each other with it.


But then, she found other friends, people I didn't like particularly in the first place and even less after I became jealous of the time she spent with them. I know it's petty, but it didn't feel fair. She seemed so much happier with them than with me, and what had they ever done for her? They didn't help her study or do homework. They didn't wait for her after class. In fact, they were jerks. Some of them would poke fun at her for being out-of-state and for any other reasons they could come up with. And they drew in permanent marker on her face and played pranks on her. See? Prank-pullers, the kind of people I don't like. . . Okay, fine, so she seemed to enjoy it and she returned the favor to those who drew on her face, but I could tell it bugged her slightly too because she appreciated it when I snatched the marker away from her friends.


One night, it was 4 am the weekend before a chemistry exam, and my friend should have been studying, especially since she was failing chem. I looked out the window and saw her friends restraining her in a bear hug and sticking snow down her socks. I suppose she may have started it, and she threw snow back at them. But then there's the problem of why on earth they were encouraging her to be out goofing off at that time of night, a day before a big test. But she absolutely loves them.


Her friends are mostly from an on-campus youth group type deal, such groups are often exclusive, and the same is true of this one. One of them is somewhat pleasant, though. He's the boy who awkwardly asked me to go rafting at the beginning of the year. My friend is besotted with him, and he with her. Problem is, to be completely honest, he's not a better friend to her than I am. I came to her rescue when they were drawing on her face, and he just sat there. I always told her the truth, and he sometimes didn't. But she loved him so much more than me. Is it because he's a boy? I mean, of course it's because he's a boy.


See, I know this sounds weird, terribly petty, and childish. I know. But I'm being honest.


She started spending more and more time with them -- going to dinner in the cafeteria, playing card games in the study rooms, having Bible studies downstairs, or just hanging out in the boy's room. And not inviting me. She did this more and more. I soon decided I needed to distance myself from her, so I tried to avoid or act cold to her when she WAS around. By the end of the semester, we spent a fraction of the time together that we'd spent before, and I'm barely over my bitterness after not seeing her for three weeks.


Even more than the other girls, this one chipped away at my okayness in the last few weeks of last semester. They all did, though, and it was amazing the feelings I could recognize as being more familiar than feeling okay. In a way, I didn't start feeling like myself again until the first girl disappoined me by threatening to tie me down in the yard. I recognized the feeling of disillusionment regarding her and everyone else on the planet, really, like what I'd felt with my family before college.


When my friend started spending her time with other people instead of me, it was one of those things, those previously so-familiar things I couldn't forget about just by avoiding. It took me back to the pre-college days, when hurt hung on the edge of my thoughts all the time. I had knowledge that bugged me, knowledge about the people around me, knowledge I couldn't -- wouldn't just forget about, because that wouldn't be truthful. It wasn't nearly as bad as pre-college, though. I was still okay most of the time.


I know lots of people go through this -- you find a friend, they find other friends. Heck. It's happened to me before. Maybe, though, I was under the impression that, once people grew up, they'll stick with you if you're a good friend to them. Even if I wasn't under that impression, I'm probably too stupid to avoid becoming friends with people. And even if it's true that grown ups know good friends, that girl is not grown up.


One Friday, she did invite me out with her friends, and we saw the school's band play. I fell asleep. (C'mon, if you were me, you'd know how impossible it is to sit still and stay awake after weeks of not sleeping. The band was good though.) My contacts got dry. One fell out. I was exhausted, irritated at losing a contact, and disoriented from having only one eye that could see clearly. I politely asked my friend to follow through on her promise to get Rafting Boy to drive me home. She suddenly decided she didn't want to bother him. I had to find a ride home myself. I didn't think too much about it then, about what that meant about her priorities and her word. I was too tired to think about it then. I was mad about it later though.


So, first the beginning of the semester, my college friends were part of why I felt okay, but by the end, people were aliens to me, which I'll talk more about in Part 4.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 2

First of all, Happy New Year!


Now, in Part 1, I talked about the academic parts of last semester.


Regarding other parts of life, they've been pretty darn good. Those first few weeks were hard in a way I didn't understand. They didn't feel hard. They just felt strange. I felt strange. Because I didn't feel much at all. And now, I think I know why. I had no "cues," no previously-understood reasons for feeling anything. I had no familiar sights, sounds, people, or objects to trigger feelings. I had to start from scratch making new cues.


So I did. I met new people, enjoyed new foods, appreciated different sights and experiences, etc. And around the time I realized how normal I was behaving, I also realized that I was okay, really okay. And that was better than I'd been in years. I'd have mistaken it for being "happy," except that I know what it's like to be happy. Still, being "okay" was pretty great, and it came about because all my cues were absent.


I was authentically unhappy before I went to college, mostly because of - and this is going to sound very heartless, but it's true - the people I had the most contact with, my family. I'm sorry, but they make me very unhappy. For the most part, they hurt me by saying cruel and mindless things -- not usually directed at me, but cruel and twisted nonetheless -- which used to hurt me all the more because I loved them, expected much, much more of them, and wanted them to see the truth.


It didn't bother me as much when complete strangers did and said the same things as my family did. I think going to college has helped me see my family a little more as strangers.


For instance, the other day, my dad caught a half-dead buzzing fly in a sack, and I asked him to just kill it, but he refused, saying he, "liked to watch them be tortured." He said it because he thought it was funny, not necessarily because he was serious. Because I care about all kinds of creatures, I'm a vegetarian, but even if I wasn't, torture is horrible, and I absolutely hate when people joke about horrible things. It's a topic I'll have to write a whole post about sometime because it's become really central to my thoughts. My dad did what he did to the fly even after all the times I've argued with him about problems like this and despite the fact that he knows I'm a vegetarian.


However, it hurt me relatively little when my dad caught that fly a few days ago, as compared to how it would have hurt me before college. Before college, I'd be unhappy just being around my family, especially my dad and brothers, as it hung in my mind how often they'd behaved that way, how hard I'd tried to get them to stop, and how badly I'd failed. I was unhappy around my mother too, but I also enjoyed being around her sometimes. When she was around my father and brothers, she'd act to some extent like them. Without their influence, she was kind. And I'll always remember the months we had together when all of the boys were gone and how close and peaceful our relationship became. She was my best friend back then.


I thought I'd be miserable without her, but I think she's a major part of why I used to be so bashful around strangers. See, I didn't want to interact with strangers in a way that was inconsistent with the way my Mom saw me. I wasn't even sure how it was she saw me, but that fact just added to my fear, which made me shy. Even without her right next to me, she was around, and I knew it and could almost feel her watching as I interacted with people. I want to be honest in who I am, how I act. I don't want there to be any discrepancies, so I used to overmonitor myself when I talked to people.


When I left my mom far behind, though, I didn't have to worry about acting consistently with how I'd act with her. It was very freeing, and because of that, I acted confident and normal, like other people there at the school.


Also, before college, I'd get myself hurt when I'd try to share things with my mom --songs, pictures, movies, or books I discovered -- and she would show little or no interest. I don't blame her for that. I know it only meant she doesn't have the same interests as I. I wouldn't want her to pretend she did. That's too much like lying. Somehow, though, I kept taking the slim chance that she'd really like it THIS time, THIS time, THIS time. It happened quite often, and I could never stop myself. When I started living alone, though, I never even thought to share the fun discoveries I made, because there was no one around. I just enjoyed them on my own. And I didn't hurt myself trying to get other people to enjoy them with me. To be honest, I still subconsciously store away discoveries I make to bring up with my mom when I visit home. Most of the time, though, I just enjoy them.


I felt pretty genuinely okay in college, thanks to the factors above and the people I met at college, which I'll talk about in Part 3.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 1

It feels like so very much has happened, but I suppose nothing life-changing has. I finished my first semester of full-time college, I'm very proud of me, and now I'm on Christmas vacation for three weeks. I have time to post! I apologize for my absence, but I guess I'll start by describing how freaking hard college is.


For the past couple months, I've slept an average of 2 hours every weekday night, and maybe 6 hours on weekend nights. I had most of my finals the week before last week (which was ACTUAL Finals Week), and I didn't sleep at all on probably three of those nights. My dad and brother acted like this was my fault. Well, I could have slept more. A lot more. But then I wouldn't have gotten any of my work done and I'd have failed my classes. I just had too much to do.

This semester, I took 16 credits, but I spent more time in class than that would indicate, because in addition to my five regular classes, I had one weekly class that counted for just one credit and three that counted for zero. Most of those classes were "lab components" that took 2+ hours.

When not in class, I worked virtually round the clock. I studied and did homework, taking a couple hours maybe every other week to do something strictly fun. Engineering is a hard major. It's easier for fast people, but I'm a slow person. That's part of why I haven't slept much lately, but hey, I've done really well for myself. I'm still waiting on some of my final grades, but so far, they look good. And you know what? I've loved it.


I loved working and learning and doing. I think I was meant to work hard, because I feel healthiest when I do. It reached a bit of an extreme this year, with the no sleeping thing, but I love having something to do. It just feels good. And I hope that one day, very soon, I can find a balance between physical health and hard work.


I needed the motivation college gives me, with the threat of poor grades, with people who expected to see me in class every day, and with a schedule that can't be pushed back or ignored. I still need it. I'm lazy on my own. Maybe one day, I'll find a way to motivate myself, but right now, I need college to do that. That's the main reason I ever went. I could learn on my own, but I need to be motivated.



I've loved learning, too. Did I say? I loved being challenged and discovering new things about the world, which is probably why chemistry was my favorite class. Most of the students hated it, and I do too. A little. It's hard. I did rather badly in it the first half of the semester, but I liked it even then. It was the most advanced class I took, with the most new information, and it helped me develop my recent interest in nanotechnology, which I'll get into in a later post.


Anyway, I loved being active academically, loved the actual working of problems. Even during finals week, I was so nervous while taking my tests, but as I got further into each one, I found myself having fun. I'd studied, so I kind of knew what I was doing, but it was still a challenge, not too easy and not impossible. I loved the feeling of competence, the exhiliration of surmounting difficulties.



One aspect of college I didn't enjoy was the teachers. Either they were nice but couldn't teach, or they weren't approachable, or they were downright insane. My writing teacher was probably the latter. I felt sorry for her, but she gave everyone bad grades until she (reportedly) got complained about enough and got in trouble for bringing down all her students' GPAs. She seemed so nice most of the time, but now and then, she'd say something that normal people just don't say. On my early papers, she'd give feedback that made little, if any sense, so I didn't know how to write to please her, which made it extremely nerve-wracking to write at all. I've always procrastinated writing, because I've always felt pressured to write really well, but I've always liked it too. She made me almost hate it. I'm definitely glad I'm done with that class.


Overall, though, I enjoyed the academic parts of life these past few months, even if I hated how little sleep I got.


To be continued in Part 2 . . .

College: My First Two Weeks Overall

So...

I told you about the quiz, but that was an incident. It represents a couple of days in my life. If I were to tell you about college overall, it would sound different. Less intersting, actually, but I'm gonna tell you anyway. Suck it up. =)

Basically, through most of my first two weeks, I had no idea what I was feeling. I was terrified the first night, after a "personal safety talk" that reminded me of all the reasons I was scared to go to college. But after that, I'm not sure if I just didn't feel anything, or if I just didn't feel anything I'm used to feeling. It didn't feel like it usually feels when I don't feel anything. Maybe, it was just that I didn't know the names of the emotions I felt. Wow, I'm being confusing. But my current emotions became mild, at the least. And at the most, my usual emotions abandoned me. I didn't feel terrified, although I wanted to avoid the loudmouths outside my door and window. I didn't feel annoyed, or inconvenienced at having to share a bathroom with other girls, a bathroom with shower stalls that had only curtains for privacy where I would have preferred frosted glass doors. I didn't act silly. I didn't feel embarassed. Much. I did have an incident where I dropped a yogurt, and some people next to me cleaned it up and told me to, "Put your stuff down. It's easier." Which was also annoying because I hate when people tell me what to do, but they were partly right. Partly. It's not exactly easier, and who asked you anyway? Hmm?! I'm not a child, I don't need you to tell me it might be easier, that's obvious, I made the choice to HOLD my stuff, don't question my personal choices! Just because you cleaned up yogurt without being asked doesn't give you the right to patronize me!!!

Anyway, I think part of why I had no idea what I was feeling may have been because I was tired. My brain was filtering out a lot of material to keep me focused on what I needed to do to survive. Or something. Anyway, it was very strange and unnerving, and it lasts somewhat to this very day.

I could never sleep very well because college kids were shouting and making a ruckus outside my window and door every hour of the night, and it was hot, so I had to keep the window open. I didn't have a lot of water to drink because the tap water's terrible and never cold, and bottled water was expensive and hard to lug from the store, so it never felt like I had enough, and I'm used to drinking a lot of water. The food was usually not very good and didn't agree with me, and I had heartburn a lot because of the lack of water.

I didn't miss much from home. I hardly ever miss people. With people, it's out of sight, out of mind. I did miss my pets, though. I'd see a cat here and there, and I'd get cat-sick. I saw basil growing in a pot in the cafeteria and got plant-sick, missing my own basil plants, and tomato plants and flowers. But mostly my cats. All the objects I invested the most time and care into. But I still didn't miss them that badly. I didn't ache for them. However, I think the lack of cats also contributed to my lack of sleep. I sleep better on days I pet cats.

It's hard to say how my classes are really. They're not yet even in "full swing," as they say. I still have to have the first real session of one of my regular classes, one they didn't hold for the first two weeks for various reasons. Otherwise, the classes aren't challenging concept-wise. They're mostly review, but there's a lot of work involved, and I'm left wondering if I can do it all and if I can do it all well. The pressure is the hard part.

I met some nice people, girls and guys I get along with, but mostly girls. The first couple of days here, people actually seemed TOO nice, and I felt like I was in some Twilight Zone episode. Probably an overreaction once again caused by lack of sleep. But still, I was kinda right. It couldn't and didn't last. People are still nice, but less smiley at least, and it's less creepy. I know better how to react. I think they were just putting on their best faces for the days freshmen arrived. My electrical engineering professors still seem nice, and I think they truly are just laidback people, but I'm not actually taking classes from them yet, and the rest of the people are just less creepy when they don't try to be nicer than they really are.

I think one of the boys here likes me, and he doesn't even know me. I think he almost sorta nearly asked me out. He asked me to go rafting with a few other students, but the way he said it. "Are you doing anything this Saturday? . . . If you want, you might want to come. We're going rafting this Saturday. If you want." I hate rafting, so of course, I said no, but being asked was the most bizarre occurence that's ever happened to me. And it could just be my delusions. And it's sort of difficult because he seems awfully nice, and if he was indeed sort of asking me out, and if he does indeed like me, I'm flattered beyond words, because I've never been asked out before and he seems really nice, albeit in an awkward way. But that makes everything complicated because I'd hate to hurt his feelings but I'd probably wouldn't go out with him if he asked me. I'm waiting for my soulmate, which he couldn't be, because my soulmate wouldn't ask me out when he didn't even know me. I may be imagining that he almost sorta nearly asked me out. I hope so. That makes everything much less complicated.

For my own part, I have been weird recently concerning a boy, which is so very not like me. I don't know him. He's Catholic and majoring in some field of engineering. There. That's certainly no basis for any feeling, and I think I have a crush on him. That is so juvenile. I was so sure I'd outgrown having crushes that I didn't even know I was that sure. I just was. I just think about him far more often than I would most people, and obviously for no good reason. He's moderately good-looking, like most of the students. He's nice and friendly, and not in an awkward way. And he's possibly gay, just based on the way he talks and the rainbow bracelet he always seems to wear and the pink shirt he wore the first time I saw him. I hate myself for thinking that, because I believe people should have the freedom to behave in opposition with common gender roles WITHOUT being called gay, but that's another rant. I think part of why I like this boy is because he might be gay, and I've always sort of liked gay people, if I'm honest, because I partly believe that gays are all nice, respectful people, which I also hate myself for because that's also stereotyping. Golly, this is getting convoluted. I hope this crush can also be attributed to lack of sleep, and the first time I see this kid on a good night's rest, it will all be normal for me again. Otherwise, I may be forced to conclude that I've lost my mind. I'm actually terribly ashamed of this crush, but this is where I talk about what I'm ashamed of.

But this past weekend, I went home and got some real sleep, spent time with my mom, said hi to my pets and plants. They all still remember me! Well, except the plants. They're just terrible with faces. But I was scared my cats wouldn't remember me. The ones I've given away have acted distant to me, like they didn't know me, and I thought it could happen with the ones I left at home too. But it was like I never left to them. We just picked up where we left off. It was tremendous. I had a good time with my mom too. I know it probably didn't sound good, the way I talked about her in the last post, so I need to say that I love my mom. I truly do. I even like her and get along with her, when I'm not trying to talk to her about anything that's important to me. No, I don't mean to sound like that exactly, but she was the one who made me realize that the people you love aren't always your friends. You can't always trust them, if ever. And it's like you have no control over when you remember that fact. Much of the time, you get along swimmingly and you can't help but forget what you know, and it get hammered into your head again the next time they break your heart, only so you can forget it again and again. It's just complicated, my relationship with her. She was once my best friend, and I'll try never to forget that, and I'd die for her, but...I'll have to post more about it later.

Anyway, I got some sleep, and I'm hoping to be more reasonable now. But I know it won't last. I'll be sleep-deprived again by tomorrow morning.

Final Edition of Summer 2011 To-Do

Greetings. I hail from my college dorm room. Where I am terrified. I wish I'd been able to post this yesterday or the day before, so that it could have the light-hearted tone I wanted it to. I was busy packing and trying to fix my very troublesome computer and saying goodbye to family. All preparation for today, my first day at college. Anyway, it will still be mostly light-hearted. Forward ho! I'm continuing my Summer To-Do Lists. Coming after the first, and the second, this is the third part. . . Is that obvious?

1. Finish Skulduggery reviews and ask Derek to read them

I surely did. Definitely one of the high points of my summer.


2. Find another fantastic series to read (it's excruciatingly hard to find fantastic fantasy books)

I half succeeded. I found The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, which isn't exactly a series, and I found the Theodosia series by R. L. LaFevers, which I don't precisely love, but it's enjoyable enough.


3. Read, read, read (Just relax and read. I haven't done so in many summers.)

Not so much. When I did read a lot, near the start of summer, I was also working on my tan so I wasn't really relaxing. And then I read less and less as the summer went on.


4. Write at least 13 short stories

Sigh. Sadly, no. But I started one I like.


5. Finish any other stories

Sigh.


6. Watch, watch, watch (I love movies. So many movies, so little time.)

I watched a reasonable number of movies. I think I watched all the new releases I wanted to see.


7. Blog, blog, blog (So many ideas, so little time!)

I'm pretty disappointed in how little I blogged.


8. The stuff I SHOULD do (reading physics, reviewing chemistry, preparing for college)

I'm not as disappointed in how little I did this, but I still didn't do it much.


9. Try to meditate (see, 'cause I'm not even sure what that entails)

I finally did the day before yesterday, using this article. It was fun.


10. Try to make habit of drinking hot beverages every morning (to avoid colds like I have now)

I made a habit of doing it sporadically. I really have to start working on it, though, if I want to stay healthy through the school year.


11. Do new stuff, it's fun (Doesn't have to be "exciting," as long as it's new.)

I think I did a good amount of this, and that's partly why I didn't do a lot of the other stuff. I think I really meant, "Do SPONTANEOUS stuff," stuff I never really thought about doing but did when it presented itself. I think I did well. I went on a couple trips with my mom to historic and/or scenic locations, went to several movies in theaters, got my first pedicure, stayed at a distant friend's house for two nights, walked around town by myself and got much better with the crossing of streets and such, got a comment from Derek, planted tomatoes, went wading when our roads flooded, went bowling, water-baloon fighting. looking at tiny baby frogs at the pond, and lots of other little activities where I just went with the flow.

I learned a good deal. I changed a good deal. Overall, this summer was a good deal. I'll have to post more about it later, but I'm tired now, and being tired isn't helping me feel better after five minutes of an overly depressing Personal Safety talk that was part of my first day. I'll have to post about that too. Geez, so much to post about, so little time, and seriously, so little time. I can't gaurantee how often I'll post once school starts on Monday, or even before then, but I hope to post enough to help me get through it all.

Progress

I'm getting used to the idea of moving out. I think the problem was that I so stubbornly stuck to my mindset of "I want everything to stay the same." I forever pictured myself in familiar surroundings. I never imagined myself moving out. Because of that, I couldn't imagine myself moving out. If I moved out, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle the shock, because I never expected it. And I wouldn't have been able to handle it, if I'd still been stuck in that mindset. However, I started to realize that I was going to move out, I started telling people so, I started writing it down, and I began to accept it. After this began, I read an article in a New Year edition of a fitness magazine my aunt had lying around her house.

I usually disregard such fitness articles, because their advice is not known to work, but this article acknowledged that fitness tips usually don't work, so I gave it a chance. This article declared that we should focus more on mental fitness, because it can not only lead to physical fitness but also to overall happiness. It distinguished between the mind and the brain. The brain is an organ. The mind is what the brain does. It cited research showing that we can physically change our brain by changing our mind. Certain areas of the brain expand in response to how much we exercise certain strains of thought. We can change how we react to circumstances by imagining ourselves reacting differently. I liked this because I'm sick of hearing how our bodies control how we feel and what we think. No. Our bodies are controlled BY how we feel and what we think. (A Reader's Digest article I once read supports this. Our feelings control our hormones. Not the other way around.) The article asserted that happiness is our natural state; life was not meant to be a onslaught of drudgery with brief bursts of joy. If we are mentally fit, we can train ourselves to be happy. I have to agree. Unlike evolutionists, I believe the world was originally good, as it was meant to be, and people were originally happy, as they were meant to be. I'm sure the article was not the first of its kind, but I have rarely come across such positive, insightful magazines, and I liked it. It rang true, too. Just take my "moving out mindset" for an example.

I'm feeling a bit silly about my paranoia about moving out. I was sure I was going to get killed by the psychos that hang around college campuses. While I'm sure such tragedies happen in college, I think most happen to people who roam the streets and campuses late at night, get into cars with strangers, and crash destructive parties, and I can avoid all of that. I think -- I hope this doesn't jinx it -- I'm going to be okay.

I started my online college course. The workload is a bit overwhelming, especially after months out of school. I'm still getting a rhythm down. I spent the first week freaking out about the work. An not the even the work I was doing, but the thought of all the work I will be doing when I go to college fulltime and taking SEVEN classes. I was sure I could never pull that off. I'm still not sure. If I even try, it'll be back to the old days, when school took up every spare moment of my time and left me sleep-deprived even on weekends all through the school year. That was definitely among the worst parts of high school. Freaking out for a week made me fall behind. I'm still behind, but I'm catching up, and I should get back to it, so...

Till next time.

Rushed and Confused

I rushed my last post, and when I do that, I don't think through everything I say. That happens even when I take my time on a post. Therefore, in this post, I want to clarify a few statements, but when I finish, I'll still want to clarify a few statements. I won't, though, for the sake of time and space.

I wasn't that whiny in my last post, even though I said I was. Some people might think I was, but they're probably the kind who think it's whiny to express any emotion, and I don't want to be one of them. They make me feel like I shouldn't feel anything, because feelings are crybaby-ish. I don't want to make anyone feel that way. It's not true. I only felt like I was being whiny when I talked about my parents (and when I posted that Fact of the Day). My parents probably wouldn't react THAT badly if I failed at engineering. They might look at me with that helpless, angry, disappointed look like "What are we going to do with her?" and I hate that, and they might make me get a job, but I doubt they'd kick me out or do anything very extreme. I didn't mean to imply that they would.

Is it, however, pathetic that I'm so terrified of being kicked out? That I'm terrified of being forced to get a job? That I'm terrified of getting "looked" at? Don't most kids brush off looks from their parents, jump at the opportunity to make money, and yearn to move out? (I WOULD appreciate money and moving out, actually, if all the bad stuff didn't come too.) I usually look down on the likes of them because I know nothing is ever as great as it seems and a job and moving out will be a lot harder than it sounds, so they seem very arrogant, presumptious, and Typical Teen. I hate being typical. Even so, it's probably that arrogance and presumption that gets them through it. I wouldn't be able to get through it. Not now anyway.

Right now, I'm two things: terrified and insecure.

I'm living my life as usual at the moment, but I'm thinking about college and the possibility of moving out in the fall. Just thinking about it terrifies me. I'm afraid of change, and this change would be enormous. I've been afraid of moving out of my house since I was 10. Back then, I was scared because I didn't want my secrets uncovered (the notes I hid for myself around my room), I didn't want my precious glass figurines to break when I had no way of packing them, I didn't want the hassle and confusion of packing and unpacking, and I didn't want to move into a room that might be too small for my stuff. I feel somewhat the same today, but I'm even more afraid because I'm in love with routine, familiarity, safety, and convenience. I really don't want to lose that. College would mean losing most of it. I don't want my physical surroundings to change, and I really don't want the number of people around me to change.

When I was younger, I attended sleepovers and summer camps, and it never bothered me, but I've changed. I'm scared of inconvenience. Now, I cannot share a room with anyone. It's too nerve-wracking. I need my privacy and space. I also cannot disrupt my routine, even in the summer when I'm not really doing anything. People really drain me. I live with three, and even they leave me exhausted. It's a lot of work to get along with everyone and put their needs before my own. Generally, I hate people anyway. Irritating cattle. College would mean being surrounded by a lot more people, most of them unfamiliar, which inconveniences me to no end.

At this time in my life, I wake up to the same walls every morning, I don't even go outside much, and I only see my three immediate family members consistently every day. It's familiar and convenient, just how I like it. Furthermore, I get confused and nervous when I'm trying to concentrate and they're moving all around me. It's too much to take in. I like the atmosphere quiet and still (there's a certain magic to this). Sure, I like to get out of the house sometimes, of course, and when I do, I can block out the movement and sounds of people around me. I get along fine, but it's just passing interaction for a few hours. It's not like I have to be in crowded places with deep personal interaction every day. I WILL have to be though, if I go to college. It will be new. I'm awkward in new situations, and I hate being awkward. People will see me being awkward, and I hate people seeing me being awkward. So far, with my internet classes, I've been able to look awkward and incompetent without anyone seeing me, which helped me feel less embarrassed. I hate feeling embarassed. I hate it more than almost any feeling. That's the clincher, really. College will present many opportunities for embarassment. All change presents unlimited opportunities for embarassment and looking incompetent.

To be honest, I am afraid of strangers. I'm paranoid, and I think they're all government spies, kidnappers, or assassins. If not that, they're dangerous, cruel, and unpredictable. My own family still surprises me, sometimes with their kindness, sometimes with their cruelty. I've never been to college. I don't know if the horror stories are true. Will they tie me between mattresses and throw me out a window (Gilmore Girls)? I've met few people who would be so demented, but maybe college is where they congregate. Many, many people are incredibly tolerant and dismissive of cruelty, so it's possible they express that in action too. I could definitely see it. To spill an intimate confession, it's one of my worst nightmares that people will abuse me and no one will care. Every word of that sentence weighs me down.

What if the college people don't like me, embarass me, or aren't nice to me? What if they ARE? How do I refrain from being friends with nice people when I want them to leave me alone but also don't want them to think I'm a jerk?

My brain tells me I'll make it out of college relatively unscarred. However, Panic tells me otherwise, and it holds more influence than my brain.

Even if the college people aren't bad, I'll be living in a new neighborhood, quite possibly in the vicinity of known sex offenders...

Why can't everything be easy? Why can't I learn everything I need in one day in my safe, familiar bedroom in my safe, familiar neighborhood with my safe, familiar pets?

Basically, college means saying goodbye to EVERYTHING routine and familiar, everything luxurious and comforting, everything I'm in love with. It means saying hello to a lot of my fears. It will be a BIG change.

At times like this, I feel the pressure of trying to uphold the reputation of homeschoolers. But homeschooling didn't make me this way. My choices did. I had every opportunity to be a typical, arrogant teen obsessed with socializing, but I chose not to. I chose quiet and solitude. I would have chosen the same if I'd gone to public school. I wanted it. Other homeschoolers wanted the opposite, and they prove the stereotypes wrong, so I don't have to. I can be who I am and be a hermit.

I think I naturally fear everything but weird stuff that "normal" people are afraid of. Like death. Maybe, I'm a freak to fear everything but death and to prefer hermitism, but everyone is freakish in some way. (If they're not, they're freakish for not being freakish, and they're dull). I just need to accept that I'm scared. Being scared of being scared is just making it worse. Feeling freakish for being freakish is just making it worse. It's not making me braver.

Also, I've been doing a lot of college-related paperwork, and I'm rushing it because I have to get it all done as soon as possible. I've put it off till this point, and now I'm unprepared. I can't continue to be unprepared, but now I'm rushing, which makes me susceptible mistakes. I can't afford mistakes because this is my future I'm dealing with here. It's overwhelming, just the paperwork of getting INTO college. And I thought being accepted was the hard part. How am I supposed to get through college when just the starting paperwork is too much for me? Am I really that lazy and incompetent? I realize I am lazy, but here I am complaining about paperwork. Paperwork. To be fair to me, I also suffer from the pressure and fear that goes with it. How can I bear to move out? Won't I suck at engineering? Do I even know how to work hard anymore? Can I handle dealing with people who won't just ignore me? Can I avoid being hacked to death by a machete-murderer?

I fear change, but at the same time, I need change. I don't want my life to stay the same forever. It's already old, and it will only get older. It's not my dream. I have to move forward, but I'm terrified.

I feel so many emotions right now, I can't pin them all down.

I've been listening to Super Trouper by Superchick. It describes me well. (The only line I don't like is "True friends, they stab you in the face.")




I fit all the analogies, but especially, "If you were in a movie, you'd be Thug #5 'cause you don't try out for a starring role but your name belongs in lights." For a long time, I've considered myself too lowly even for the most humble tasks, and not because I'm humble. Unfortunately, I'm quite the opposite, which is part of the problem. I have low self-esteem. I admit it, okay?! (Why is it considered unattractive to admit having low self-esteem? It's very honest and human. I don't know how others can resist finding it appealing. I guess it's another of those opinions only I have.) I didn't think I could ever get a job, get into college, or anything. I just couldn't.

I've made myself believe that some people are simply more talented than others. It must be the truth because it's painful, I thought. Why should I happen to be one of the talented ones? If anything, I'd be one of the useless ones. Statistics. Probability insisted on it. (Even though no such statistics really exist.)

About a year ago, I entered a short story in a contest, and I didn't even expect to win, but for a day, I felt big and important because "only prestigious, obscure, distant people -- 'the somebody elses' the world -- even enter the contests." By just finishing a short story and entering it, I felt like I was winning the lottery, an outcome that defied all odds. Normal people don't even finish their stories. I didn't win, of course, but that's just one illustration of how I think.

When I applied for fast food jobs, I never expected to get one, but it was another case of "Even Entering is Winning" for me. Amazingly enough, I did get a job. I saw even a fast food job as a highly elevated station. Fast food people work hard and earn their living. My dad, however, was very opposed to me working at McDonalds. He thought I was better than that, I guess, which is sort of nice but only made me feel worse. He said, "McDonalds is where all the losers work." I'd never seen it that way, but it did make me feel like a loser. Then, I felt like a loser to losers when I sucked at the job, failed, and quit. (Perhaps also because of my dad, I thought the job would be easy, which made me arrogant, which made my downfall worse. I did gain an even greater respect for fast food workers, though. I don't care what anyone says. They have a hard job. I always try to look them in the eye and smile now.)

As you can imagine, I look up to just about anyone with a job -- which is perfectly well and good, by the way. I'm not saying it's not. -- so engineers were way up there on my list of amazing people. I never would have considered being one. After the fast food job, though, I decided to think harder about what Dad said and maybe aim for the kinds of jobs he wanted me to aim for. He might be right. I did WANT to do amazing deeds. I applied to colleges and got in, which I half-expected wouldn't happen. (I only half-expected it, though, after defying odds and getting a job.) Good golly, all these conflicting expectations and outcomes.

Looking at my history, I entered a contest but didn't win and got a job but didn't last. Therefore, I've been accepted to college, but I might fail at that too. I can't even work a job all the other employees thought was easy. On the one hand, maybe that means I was meant for other jobs, greater jobs. On the other hand, maybe it means I'm useless, just as I thought, and I'll live with my parents forever, working an extremely hard fast food job and becoming suicidal pre-midlife. Maybe not, though.

Returning to the Superchick song, that line is literally true of me too. I wouldn't even dare to try out for Thug #5. That would mean a trip to Hollywood, for one thing, and I hate traveling. But if I did try out, I'd be elated just to try out for Thug #5. I'd feel once again like one of those prestigious, obscure people. I'd be in a movie! I wouldn't try out for a starring role, because I wouldn't like the pressure or attention and I'm no good at acting. Then again, how do I know that? I've never really tried acting. You see? I dip toward pessimism, but I'm forcing myself to think positive.

Super Trouper helps me do this. To me, the song sounds secretly sad, like it's hiding just how melancholy it is. It addresses the people who waste their lives and talent and may never get out of their rut, but it encourages them to think well of themselves, to believe they were meant for their dreams, and not to wait until the end to live them. I don't want to wait until the end to be what I wish I'd been, to live large, or to get out of this rut. I still don't know if I'm one of the talented ones, or if my name belongs in lights, but I hope so. Very much. (I also don't know what I really think about "talent" or who has it.)


Finally, since this is the first 2011 post, here's my plan. I'm always changing. Feelings fade, I forget them, and though I wanted to, I can't write about them without lengthy, possibly inaccurate remembrance. I've jotted down my feelings but haven't written about them fully. If I don't soon, I may never, and I'd like to. Especially now, I'm changing a lot every day. Therefore, I'll be posting as fast I can make myself. That makes this blog sound like a feelings journal, and I guess it is, but it won't be just that. I will post about issues other than myself. I have opinions on political figures, moral issues, movies such as Tangled, books such as Skulduggery Pleasant, and more.

I'm really sorry this post is a tad sloppy. I started it weeks ago and wrote so much I was scared to edit it for the longest time, and now, I just want to publish it already. I'll have to keep the word count down from now on.

Thanks to everyone who reads this blog. I feel better just thinking someone hears me.

=)