End of the Semester

The semester is coming to an end. I have mixed feelings about the semester. It's been...honestly, it's been hard. I don't mean my classes. School-wise this semester wasn't very challenging and I'm doing well with little effort. I wouldn't go so far as to say college is easier than high school was but it certainly hasn't been any harder. When I say that the semester was hard, I mean that I've been through a lot. Maybe some people think that the first semester of college would fly by but for me it's been inching along.

It's hard being far from home even though I know it's what I need. It's hard being away from my friends and put with strangers. Friendships are made so quickly here and then they end just as quickly. Every time I felt like I had finally settled something came and blew everything into chaos again. And at the end of it all, even though I feel like I've finally found my place here, I still have a bad taste in my mouth.

I don't know exactly what it is but...this semester was hard. I'm glad that it's over because I'm exhausted.

But before the semester can officially end, before I can go home I have to take exams. And I just feel like I have nothing left. These next 9 days are going to be awful.

Home

Confession: I stopped writing a while ago. And I'm done being ashamed about it. It didn't feel right. This year wasn't a year for writing. I was just torturing myself and I know that's part of wha NaNoWriMo is supposed to be about but not for me. I've participated in NaNoWriMo three times before and it was always hard, challenging but ultimately fun. It was a rewarding experience. And this year it did not feel right. I could have pushed through but I think I made the right decision.

Right now I am sitting in my house, home for Thanksgiving break. I am back in my favorite chair on my computer just like old times. Last time I visited home everything just kind of felt awful. There were bad feelings still rippling on the surface and it was not a good experience. This time it's all calmed down and it actually feels nice.

My parents are watching the History channel at the moment. It's a special on the White House and they have Laura and G. W. on talking about it. I am a steadfast Democrat and policy-wise disagree with the former president, but, honestly, I kind of like the man. He's endearing. Not really a good president but a nice guy. And listening to Laura and Dubya talk about the White House is kind of sweet.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I turn 19. I've never been much of a birthday person. This year I'm not really doing anything except getting dinner with my friends. My mom bought me cupcakes from Graul's, which was just about the greatest birthday surprise ever. My grandfather and my godparents actually forgot my birthday this year. A little disconcerting. I come from a big family but I'm the youngest of the cousins and I'm often just overlooked. I'm used to it. In some families, the youngest child is spoiled but that's not the case for me. There are just so many other children that I'm just lost at the back of the line. But it's ok. I'm not one to want to be the center of attention, hence my aversion to birthdays.

All I want for my birthday is to see all my old friends. And so I'm very excited to do just that tomorrow.

Nostalgia at 4 AM

I always feel the urge to blog at 4 AM. And so here I am.

Tonight I am listening to Bruce Springsteen, specifically the album Nebraska. I will declare this album as one of my all time favorites. I love Bruce Springsteen. Whenever I listen to The Boss, I feel an overwhelming nostalgia. I cam by his music through my father. This was the music of my childhood. When I listen to these songs I hear my dad singing along horribly off key.

This music makes me want to go home more than ever. I want to go home to Baltimore.

Distressed

I hate to do this. I'm still behind on NaNoWriMo even though I wrote ten thousand words Wednesday night (I didn't sleep). And I've just run out of ideas. I don't really like my story. I've been jumping back and forth in the narrative. I've switched narrators three times. I've jumped forward and backward in my characters' lives. Nothing is working. I jut can't get these characters to work with a cohesive plot. Nothing is working. I'm at 15,000. I wanted to get to 25,000 today. I skipped my class and my volunteer hours to write all day long. I just thought I would force myself. But the more I work on it the more I just want to change my novel completely. It's just so disheartening.

I know it's just a stupid dare. NaNoWriMo isn't the end of the world. A lot of people are busy during the month of November. Most people can't write 50,000 words in 30 days.

But to me it's different.

Writing is what I love to do. I've always looked forward to NaNoWriMo. I know I can write 50,000 words in a month because I've done it 3 times already and I loved the experience. I'm a writer. I love to write. It's what I want to do with my life. And it sucks that I'm failing right now.

I've failed at so many other things in my life but I've always been a writer. And now it feels like I've lost writing, too.

I don't want to give up and I don't want to fail but I just can't see anything working this year.



And on top of all this, I'm trying to work out my schedule for next semester. I'm taking 19 credits (6 classes) and it is the most awful schedule ever. Not only are the class times horrible but the actual classes suck. I'm trying to finish my core so I have to take boring science and history classes. Normally I would be fine with this because I can balance it out with fun classes for my majors. But next semester my required classes for my English major and my Journalism major are bother horrible.

I have 8 AM Spanish Monday through Thursday. Monday and Wednesday my classes go until after 6 PM. The only redeeming part of my schedule is that I don't have anything on Friday.

I'm just grumpy. I just want to play the piano but I feel like I need to force myself to write today. But at the same time it's just making me feel horrible and I don't deserve that. Argh!

All Night

2:43 AM
Trying to make up for lost NaNoWriMo time in one night. We'll see how it goes. Should be a fun experience, especially considering that I didn't sleep last night either. I have been awake for 42 hours and I don't even feel sleepy yet. I'm not going to think ahead. I'm not going to worry about perpetuating my sinus infection (I don't really need hearing in my right ear). I'm not going to question why I am wide awake. I am just going to take advantage of this opportunity.

Last night I wrote all night but not for NaNoWriMo. Tonight I am taking up the challenge again. I am going to write all night.

Happy But Not Right

I'm still not talking about NaNoWriMo. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm very upset about it actually, not because I'm failing but because I feel like I'm letting a part of me slip away. Why am I not writing? I can't be myself if I don't write. And I haven't played the piano in weeks. I don't like to think about it because it upsets me.

I'm happy, though. I think I'm happy. I haven't had a bad day in weeks. I used to have multiple bad days in a week. At the same time, I feel like this happiness is suppressing a part of myself. Is it possible that I actually secretly desire my old misery? That's sick. I'm just not used to feeling happy. I don't really know how to explain it. Yes, those days are bad when they come, dangerous even, but at the same time it's when I produce my best music and my best writing.

Why can't I ever just be satisfied in my life? I'm either stuck in a back hole or I'm perfectly happy yet somehow unfulfilled.


In other news, I am slacking off in my classes. Procrastination has taken over again. Fed by a recent sickness. Make this the fourth sinus infection this year. Could there be a more disgusting sickness?

And what else does my life need right now but drama. Basically, I have this bad habit of getting drunk and hooking up with this guy. It's complicated because we're friends, he's into me and I thought I didn't like him but now I'm wondering why my drunken self likes to hook up with him so much. I don't want to lead him on but why do I keep getting drunk and hooking up with this kid?

The icing on the cake that was my week - we had to put down Lazy Sun, one of the horses I had grown up with. He was old but I learned to ride on him and he was a great, great horse. He was a great racehorse in his day but I knew him as the friendly old guy who was there all my childhood.

Ramble Ramble Rawr!

Let's not talk about NaNoWriMo. No, really. Don't ask me about it. Also, don't ask me about life in general.

I am sick. I am behind in NaNoWriMo. I am behind in classes. I am tired. My throat hurts. And all I feel like doing is complaining. [Note: My friend, who is also sick, just sneezed and it sounded like Donald Duck. I declare that sneeze the single-most, epic sneeze in the world. Sneezing is normally a sad activity but if my sneezes sounded like Donald Duck I would just love sneezing. It would make me happy to sneeze and pretend I was Donald Duck because I'm sure Donald Duck never gets sick and complains about life like I do all the time.]

In other news, the health care bill passed in the House. I have nothing to say about this except, "Yay." And I'm not being sarcastic. I really am happy. I just don't feel like talking about politics. I know I know. Why did I bring it up, then? Well, because I needed to change the subject from complaining and it was the first piece of news that popped into my head.

Oh here's a fun topic. [And in case you haven't noticed I am obviously just writing this to avoid my work.] Shit. My friends and I were just discussing poop and how pooping together really bonds people together. That's all I have to say on the topic but I thought it was worth mentioning.

Now my friend just brought me a Ricola cough drop. The worst part of being sick is Ricola. But I do what I need to do. I like the lemon part of Ricola but I have issues with the honey. I just don't like honey. Oh, well.

I guess I could talk about my life. Remember how I hooked up with Peter Pan? Well, now we're friends and he tried to hook up with me again on Saturday night. That's really all there is to that story.

Why can't I just find a guy I actually like and hook up with him? Instead I just have ceramics majors trying to get in my pants. Not just any ceramics major, though, I crazy ceramics major. He's already been to rehab and he's 18. He said he tried being sober for a few months and decided that drugs and alcohol were just more fun. I mean I love this kid. He's hilarious. But I don't want to hook up with him (but I probably will because that's what I do...hook up with people I don't like that is. It's actually rooted in a deep-set psychological problem regarding my low self esteem and intimacy issues).

Ok, that's all the rambling I can do for one day. Don't look at me like that. I'm a horrible person.

Just WRITE

Wordcount: 5,003

I have just discovered Write or Die. I wrote 1,000 in 30 minutes last night. They were crap words but I got that stupid scene written. I think I will be visitng Write or Die a lot this NaNoWriMo. I am also throwing out my half finished outline just because I can. I really just want to get to know this character. He's disturbed in all the best ways so I'm just going to see where he takes me.

[Random Interjection: My roommate just texted me. It reads, "Pip!!! I am going to choke you tonight!!" See the abuse I take? Haha I probably deserve it*]

My goal for tonight is 8,000. If I use Write or Die again I could reach that point in an hour and a half but that's if I want another 3,000 crap words. I am giving myself 2 hours to devote to Nano tonight because I have a major test tomorrow. NaNoWriMo during college is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Here's my realization: Whatever I write this month is going to be crap.

But I need to stick it out for the whole month. I haven't been writing since I came to college, which is distressing. NaNoWriMo is just going to throw me right back into writing. And hopefully I'll end up with a crap first draft that might hold a tiny fragment of a good novel hidden in its depths. I already know that I love this character. I am going to take these 50,000 words to see where he takes me. I have a storyline and a plot idea but I am going to throw away the scene-by-scene outline I started out with. Not that it was necessarily a bad outline. I'd just rather do some explorative writing without being boxed in by an outline.

I am a very slow writer by nature. I have the worst inner-editor. She just won't shut up. I'm lucky if I write 1,000 in a day. NaNoWriMo is all about silencing my strict inner-editor and getting the ideas out of my head. So that's what I'm going to do.

Right now. WRITE NOW!**

*Roomie and I are friends. I am fairly certain she was joking just now. I don't think she will actually strangle me in the night.

**Sorry. That was uncalled for.

College + Halloween = Pip Making Poor Decisions

Yes, NaNoWriMo has begun but I have to question the creators. Why does it have to start the day after Halloween? I don't think Chris Baty, whoever he is but he sends me e-mail for Nano so I'm assuming he's in charge, realizes how long it takes a college student to recover from Halloween weekend.

Here's the rundown:
Thursday night - shitfaced black cat, violently dance-raped into a bench by an army soldier resulting in painful bruises on both my shins, ended the night by dancing on a table and then staying up until 5 AM talking with kids who live on my floor

Friday daytime -class hungover but still managed to get into a debate that started as a discussion of gender roles in Early Modern Europe but somehow turned into the ethics of having children, then I went to the mall and bought halloween costume supplies and a new scarf to add to my collection, also the 99c store is my new favorite place, I bought a truly hideous puppy mug and a dvd double feature (that's right 2 movies for 99c, one of them is called The Lady and the Highwayman and apparetly stars Hugh Grant)

Friday night - shitfaced fairy, a mime hit on me, michael jackson got me beer, and t pain danced with me, I had a flower wand that I would use to give people fairy dancing magic, ended the night as That Girl at a party of all Asian kids

Saturday daytime - recovering

Saturday night - notsoshitfaced Fanta girl, it was a diverse night including partying at the asian frat and the hispanic frat, walking the streets was like a flashback to trick-or-treating as a kid because everyone was walking from different house parties in costume but all the girls were really slutty and instead of getting candy at each house we got alcohol, I also may or may not have pulled a Senior Week and peed on the side of the road, I ended the night with good old-fashioned sexonthedancefloor dancing with Peter Pan, regretted hooking up with the kid when I realized that he lived on the floor above me in my dorm

[More on that last:
We were walking down the street after the hispanic frat party was busted. I had just left my brother a horrible message because I had to get away from a creepy senior guy. Then, I was saved when I caught sight of our friend Angel who lives on the 8th floor of our dorm. He was with his other friends from the 8th floor and so we joined forces and decided to chill for the rest of the night.

I guess I really must have hit it off with the 8th floor guys because I ended up peeing in front of them on the side of the road and then going to a party with them. Of course the party they took us to just happened to be where all the other 8th floor people were. Julia, Lina and I were the only 7th floor girls and when we got on the dance floor all three of us ended up hooking up with th guys we were dancing with...Now, all of the people on the 8th floor know us as the 7th floor hoes.

Honestly, dancing/making out on the dance floor in a sketchy basement while dressed like a slut and not wearing any shoes - never felt so trashy. College + Halloween = Pip making poor decisions. The guy wasn't even cute. He was dressed as Peter Pan. Seriously. Peter Pan was not - innocent at all. Dear God. He's a nice guy, though. We have the same taste in music and he's a vegetarian, too. I'm glad I didn't sleep with him because now we can actually be friends.

Halloween Halloween Halloween. Making fun college memories, I suppose.]

Overall it was an eventful weekend. There was drama with all the girls on our floor but I'm not letting it bother me. I found my close friends here but I still have to remember that I've only known these people for two months. Sometimes its easy to forget that when you're living so close with everyone.


Now, I'm just ready to lie in bed all day. Napping, recovering, watching the Ravens game, and getting to work on my novel.

Poem

I am reading poetry on a Friday night.

Silence by Billy Collins

Now it is time to say what you have to say.
The room is quiet.
The whirring fan has been unplugged,
and the girl who was tapping
a pencil on her desktop has been removed.

So tell us what is on your mind.
We want to hear the sound of your foliage,
the unraveling of your tool kit,
your songs of loneliness,
your songs of hurt.

The trains are motionless on the tracks,
the ships at rest in the harbor.
The dogs are cocking their heads
and the gods are peering down from their balloons.
The town is hushed,

and everyone here has a copy.
So tell us about your parents -
your father behind the steering wheel,
your cruel mother at the sink.
Let's hear about all the clouds you saw, all the trees.

Read the poem you brought with you tonight.
The ocean has stopped sloshing around,
and even Beethoven
is sitting up in his deathbed,
his cold hearing-horn inserted in one ear.

-----------

Sorry, Billy. Sorry, Beethoven. I'm not telling anything tonight.

Staying In

It's a boring Wednesday night in Syracuse. Most of my friends headed down to Funk 'n Waffles to see on of our floormates play open mic night. Normally, I would have been right there with them but tonight...eh. I've noticed that when I'm at college I never have any quiet time. Whenever there's a quiet moment I snatch it up for sleep.

I'm not an anti-social person but for most of my life I've always enjoyed my alone time. Alone time meant I could read or write or play the piano or just sit and think. I haven't been doing much of any of that lately. As much as I love college, sometimes I just feel out of balance.

And so tonight I decided to stay in, not so I could do work but because I just needed to stay in.


NanoWrimo is quickly approaching and I still don't know what I'm going to write about. I'm starting to worry. I've never gone into November without a plot in my head. This will be my fourth attempt and I don't want it to be my first failure. I look forward to November all year long but, once again, lately I haven't been feeling the excitement. And I want to be excited. I love to write. I've always loved to write and I don't know why the excitement has waned lately.

Even writing this blog. I'm not writing to write. Whenever I'm writing here it's because I need to sort out my thoughts. There's nothing wrong with that. That's always been a part of my writing. But it was just a small part, the majority of my writing was just for the pure joy of writing. I'm afraid I've lost that and nothing scares me more than that. If I've lost that, then who am I?

Sometimes I just wonder if I've lost a little too much of myself lately. I don't want that.

Bittersweet Homecoming

Here is a surprise: I am sitting on the Big Purple Couch again! Not only that, but I am sitting on BPC while watching my RAVENS on TV.

It feels so nice, so familiar. I came home for the weekend expecting everything to feel a little different now that I've lived away from home for six weeks. But instead it feels the same. I just fell right back into my life here, complete with old drama and disturbances.

First riding in on the bus I was giddy with excitement. I didn't realize how much I missed home until I was within an hour's distance. Then, I have never been so happy to see my house in my life. My dogs came running and practically tackled me. Honestly, I missed my dogs more than I missed my family (more on that to come). Firday I ended up driving out to all my old haunts. Retail tharapy at the mall just like old times (weird the things you miss but I've never tried to hide my shopping addiction), Smoothie King and reservoir run (we saw the regular horde of NDP girls and it made me want to go back), lounging by Emily's pool (which was sadly closed).

I mentioned that I didn't really miss my family all that much, not surprising given our history, but I did miss my friends, who stood in for my family for 4 years. We met for a "Family Dinner" at Emily's and as everyone arrived we would scream and run out to tackle them in hugs. It was stupid and silly, it's only been 6 weeks and we've been skyping all the time, but just to be able to give my friends a hug felt so good. I can't even explain how many times I've been at college and just wanted a hug from Liz or Dena or Kathleen and had to settle for a Skype conversation instead.

I suppose I should have put my family on more of a priority. After all, they are my family and they haven't seen me in six weeks either. But, honestly, I just wanted to stay and talk all night with my friends. Instead I left my friends to go home and see my family (when I had been home earlier everyone had been at work and my siblings hadn't gotten in yet).

I shouldn't let it bother me anymore but almost as soon as I walked in I was just thrown right back into the mess that is my family. It's the sort of mess that everyone sees, everyone takes part in, but no one wants to admit to. We make each other feel like shit, we are conscious of it, and yet we just go on. I thought going away for college would help but if anything it made it worse. It feels bad when your family makes you feel like shit. It feels even worse when your family makes you feel like shit after you've been away for six weeks and they should be happy to see you. Now, I know they are happy to see me but I don't understand how they can have me crying on my first day at home. (As always the issue was something stupid. This time: banking)


Sigh. Such is life. I take what I can get. I come home for the weekend, some things are great (hugging my best friend, watching the Ravens game) and some things are not so great (family and friend drama that can still ruin my day) but at least I'm home. I slept in my own bed, showered in my own shower, and in approximately two minutes I will be playing my own piano.

Bad Habit

The wind and rain are lashing against the window right now like a whip. I'm imagining they are whipping me personally for being such an unruly slave. That's right I am a slave, a slave to my life.

I haven't been the happiest lately. This horrible weather fits my mood I suppose. It's not that I don't love my new life here at college. I do. It's just that I thought, stupid Rosalee, I thought that by moving far away from home I could move far away from the problems that haunted me. But, of course, I was wrong. I ended another Saturday night crying on the sidewalk. It's becoming a bad habit of mine.

Restless

There has been a lot going on in my life and yet at the same time nothing at all. I'm a college student. Sometimes I feel like my life just isn't real. It's all just so ridiculous sometimes. Let's look at some examples:

- Last weekend started with a Thirsty Thursday event in Kenny's room. He invited his friends Stephen and Alan. We ended up having a dance party...a topless dance party because college has brought out my inherent sluttiness a lot more than I expected (bras on, of course, not that slutty but still there was a lot of dirty dancing that night). We knew this kids Stephen for one night. The next night he caused our floor to erupt in drama. He broke up the established couple of the floor. He started a horrible rumor about our friends. He ended a friendship between two girls on the floor. And all of this exploded at 1 AM, on a street corner, in the rain. I ended up sitting on the sidewalk crying [I was already emotional because of drama from home that I won't get into].

- I was elected Condom Queen on my floor. I had to pick up the bag filled with at least fifty condoms from Health Services and then I took them with me to class. I spent an hour discussing the encomienda system with a bag filled with condoms with me. There is also a drawing of a flying dick with an actual condom taped to the drawing and a pamphlet on how to use a condom (complete with illustrations) on my door.

- One of the friends I've made at college is now spending all her time with the boy I hooked up with for three weeks. I care but I don't care at the same time. Because it's college. He is into Michele now. I'm not even on his radar anymore. But we're still friends. Sometimes I really care because this situation feels so familiar (hooking up with a guy and then being forgotten about). But most of the time I just act like nothing ever happened, like nothing's weird about the situation. And, yes, this is partly because I am a champion repressor of emotions. But, also, I just feel like I'm not living in the real world where this situation would be fucked up. At college, it doesn't bother me because it's college.

- Last night we went to a Playboy themed party. Most of the time the themes are a little more clever. We're still expected to dress like whores but we have to be creative. For this party, the whole theme was to just dress like a whore. Girls showed up in just lingerie. I wore leggings and a shirt, no pants. The night was spent grinding with complete strangers, flirting with the bartender, smoking too many cigarettes outside and making friends with John the security man. By the end of the night I was soaked through with beer. And I thought it was a really fun night.

- We've only been here for a month. I've only known these people for a month. It seems impossible because time has never moved so slow. It's non-stop here. Every second I am with my friends. There is always something going on. When I look back and try to map out my time here, what I did each day and each night, I can't because everything runs together. One drunken frat party and then another.


I feel like a different person here. Or rather I'm just a version of myself here that I would only occassionally take on at home. I love a lot about these experiences but I do miss somethings. I don't want things to change too much but already I've let things get away from me. I'm not reading every night anymore. I'm not writing, here or at all. I want to change this. Starting now.

I am going to do NanoWrimo this year. Originally I thought I could never do it at college but I think I need to. It will get me back to my old self a little bit. I'm changing my major so that I can have a Creative Writing minor. I need to get back to writing. This will be my fourth NanoWrimo and I'm not about to make it the only one I've failed. I need to get excited about writing again.

Also, in important headline news. I'm trying out for the equestrian team next week. I've thought a lot about it and yet at the same time I haven't fully considered everything. I don't want to talk about it right now (see above portion about repressing emotions, this story is how it all began) but there is something hiding just below the surface here that needs to be confronted before I get back on a horse.


I feel restless right now. I'm loving college. Yes, I've changed a little but I like that I'm exploring new parts of myself and having more fun. But I can't forget who I am. College is really feeding the beast for me right now, the beast being my problems with repressing emotions. I'm going to try to find more of a balance.

Sometimes

Sometimes you just have a shitty night. And then sometimes you have an even shittier morning after.

Last night I was in a pissy mood. One of my best friends that I've made at college so far broke up with her serious boyfriend on Friday. She hasn't stopped crying in three days. I don't know how to help her, though, because I have such an unhealthy love life that I can't help myself. Seeing Annie so upset and heartbroken just reminds me of my own bruised and battered heart. And now I'm adding on more bruises because I'm a horrible masochist. I've just come to realize how I keep repeating my old mistakes. It's like a sick circle I keep making myself run around. I just can't stop. But I want to because I know if I keep going around this track I'm going to end up where Annie is, stuck in bed crying for days, completely broken.

Then, this morning I wake up and check Facebook to find my newsfeed filled with status updates of "RIP Frank." A boy I knew in high school, a friend of my brother, killed himself last night.


I don't really know how to deal with this. I didn't know Frank very well. I saw him out at parties and knew him through my brother. He was just a nice guy, an athlete. He was young and vibrant. And last night he hung himself with his tie.

I called my brother this morning. He's having a rough time. I could tell from his voice he was upset but just didn't want to deal with his feelings. He's going home this weekend for the funeral.



All of this coming all at once is really affecting me. I just want to get back in bed, pull the covers up over my head, and stay there forever. The world is a horrible place. All this life brings is shit. Pain and heartbreak and shit.

Sword Fights and Light Saber Battles

After classes today, which were especially long and boring today as I had six hours of class without a break, I met my aunt and left campus for the first time in over three weeks. My aunt is a professor at my university. She, her husband (my mother's older brother), and their little boys live about ten minutes from campus.

I didn't realize just how horrible dining hall food is until I tasted my first proper meal in weeks. Oh my God, I almost had an orgasm. And, yes, I realize that is a very strong statement to make right there but it's true. I don't think I've ever cleaned my plate so fast. What I had been eating in the dining halls all these weeks is like plastic food compared to what I had for dinner tonight. My uncle isn't even some great cook but just fresh ingredients prepared in normal portions instead of mass produced, really it just made all the difference.

I realized when I decided to come up for a visit I would have to bear the frantic balls of energy that are my little cousins. My aunt and uncle were late-in-life-parents. They tried for years, then adopted their son Peter from Korea only to get pregnant a year later (as life goes). Now they are 60 and have two young boys who are constantly bouncing off the walls. I feel their pain because just one night is exhausting for me but I have still offered myself as babysitter because if any couple needs a break it's my aunt and uncle.

So as soon as I arrive Peter, who is tiny for his 11 years and almost vicious for such a small kid, kidnaps me. We played outside before dinner and Peter proceeded to cheat at every game to proclaim himself the winner. After dinner, the real fun began.

First, though, I was allowed to play the piano. I haven't written about it here but one of the hardest things for me these past few weeks has been missing my piano. I haven't played since I've been here. I can't say how good it felt to place my hands on the keys. As I played I felt like my insides had been tightly wound and were loosening back into place. I could have played for hours and hours but Peter and William had other plans.

The boys pulled me away from the piano for two hours of sword fighting and light saber battles. These kids may be young but they are surprisingly violent. I have bruises all over but honestly it was the most fun I've had in a long time.

Now it's just barely ten o'clock and I am ready to pass out. It's been a long week. I plan on getting a full night's sleep. I just got out of a nice, long shower (oh how nice it felt to have a proper shower not in the tiny stalls of my communal bathroom!) and have settled into the glorious queen-sized bed in the guest room.

Time for sleep. Because tomorrow morning it's off and running to start another long weekend.

A Tale of Humiliation

I know I promised to write up a post about seeing Joe Biden but several things got in the way. First, I wrote up a very personal and emotional post about something I've been struggling with for the past six years but in particular in the last few months. Then, of course, I couldn't bring myself to post it. Ironically, the post was about how I have a hard time opening up and sharing my feelins. It shouldn't be surprising that I didn't post that entry. Then, I felt like too much time had elapsed since my Joe Biden experience. Also, I am somewhat embarrassed, however, I will admit that it was quite hilarious.

So now I'm back here, better late than never, to tell my tale of mystery and intrigue. Ok, there was no mystery or intrigue. There was plenty of comedy, however. It is experiences such as the one I am about to recound that makes me think that someone should just follow me around with a video camera to record all the ridiculous shit that happens in my life, most of which ends in my own humiliation. My roommate now asks me every day after classes, not how my day went but what embarrassing situation I got myself into that day because I always have a story to tell that involves my public humiliation. It's a good thing I can laugh at myself.

Anyway, moving on to Joe Biden.

There are a few facts that need to be explained before I begin my tale. First, I am a college student. This means that I have a shitty sleep schedule. For example, last night I stayed up until 3:30 AM and woke up at 9:30 AM. I considered that I good night of sleep. Last Tuesday night I believe I did not go to sleep until about 3:00 AM but unlike today I had to wake up at 7:00 AM to go see Joe Biden. Normally I do not worry about only getting four hours of sleep. What is black coffee for if not a substitute for a normal sleep schedule.

Here's an interesting fact about black coffee that I have learned: Coffee helps keep one awake; it is my drug of choice to make up for my shitty sleep schedule, however, it only works on one important condition--that said coffee is consumed continually, multiple cups over several hours. Then, of course, you must set aside a few hours for an unhealthy crash but that is not to be worried about. College students always find time for impromptu naps.

Back to The Morning of Joe Biden. The second fact that should be explained: I did not have sufficient black coffee in my system that morning. I got a good start, a fairly strong cup consumed while walking to the Student Center. Then, I had to stand in line to get in. My coffee ran out. I could not leave the line. I had no means to fill my coffee cup. This is when I began to panic. They gave me free fruit snacks, though, so this assuaged my fears for a while.

Then, they separated students from non-students. I met up with the girl I met buying the tickets (which were actually free for students but we had to stand in a line). She looked much better off than I did, smily and bubbly and all the things I should have been because anyone who knows me knows that I am nothing if not a politics nerd. We were walking into the auditorium when we were approached by a man in an expensive suit.

"Would you ladies like to sit on stage this morning?" he asked. I glanced at my friend. Here is what was going through my head: I NEED COFFEE I NEED COFFEE I NEED COFFEE Stage? COFFEE Would that mean I would be mere feet from Joe Biden? COFFEE COFFEE Wait. Stage? COFFEE This event will most likely be televised. COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE Did I put on makeup? Yes, but I NEED COFFEE Do not want to be on stage. COFFEE Could sit off to side, still be near Joe Biden and not ever on TV. COFFEE COFFEE I NEED COFFEE RIGHT NOW

"Ok, sure," my friend answered unaware that my mind had just undergone such a debate. And so we were led off to the stage where similarly shocked prisoners were already seated. There were only two open seats. Here is how the stage was set up: a podium on one side, three stools in the middle, and a table set up with microphones on the other side. I was under the impression that this would be like a Town Hall Meeting I assumed that Joe Biden and the Secretaries of Education and Treasury would be seated at the table. I thought if I took the seat behind the table I would surely be on television. And so I chose the seat behind the podium, slightly rised because it was the second row of stage seating.

I did not know that there would be long speeches given from the podium. I thought the podium would be used to introduce the event and the speakers, who would then stay seated answering questions from the stools or the table. Oh, how I was wrong.

Not only did all three speakers give long speeches from the podium but because of the camera angle zoomed in somewhat, I was the only person on stage to be on television for the majority of said speeches. Thank God, I had put some small amount of effort into my appearance that morning. I had put on a cute but conservative sweater, a high wasted skirt, and my favorite boots. I had even put on eyeshadow, demure and neutral but enough to actually enhance my sleepy eyes. My roommate later told me that I looked like Audrey Hepburn (well she said, "that girl in the picture over your desk" because she didn't know who Audrey was, which is a travesty but I forgave her because, even though she didn't know it, saying that I resembled Audrey in any way is enough to make me love you forever).

Of course, I must elaborate. I looked like a very sleepy Audrey Hepburn.

Halfway through the Vice President Biden's speech, the first of three, my eyes started to feel heavy. I didn't worry too much, I was actually interested in listening to the Vice President's speech. I could make it through, I thought. Mind over matter.

Well, here's the thing about trying to stay awake on four hours of sleep and only one cup of coffee, it's hard and you need extreme distraction. As interested as I was in the Vice President's, Secretary Geiner's, and Secretary Duncan's speeches, staring at the back of their heads was not particularly interesting. The situations escalated quickly. Sitting on the stage meant that bright lights blinded me if I looked anywhere but at the back of the speaker's head. I became so exhausted my mind couldn't even process the words. The room began to spin. I tried to count everyone in the room, I tried singing to myself.

I did not actually fall asleep but my head dipped down at one point. After the speeches, the Biden, Geitner, Duncan and the other panelists took questions from the audience. This was much more interesting and dynamic. I woke right up. It was as if I had been in a trance for the speeches.

Afterwards, my roommate calls me dying of laughter. She had been eating lunch, looking up at the TV, and started laughing at this idiot girl falling asleep on screen. Then she thought to herself, "That girl kind of looks like Rosalee...Wait. That IS Rosalee!"

She, of course, told everyone she was with. By the time I returned to my floor that night, every one of our friends knew the story and started laughing when the saw me. Luckily, I realize how ridiculous this situation was. I'm laughing at myself just thinking about it.

I fell asleep on TV while listening to Joe Biden's speech and am now known as That Girl Who Fell Asleep.

Off to See Joe Biden

I wrote that title with the tune to "Off to See the Wizard" in my mind. I am picturing myself as Dorothy, skipping down the Yellow Brick Road and singing gaily all the way (minus all the witch nonsense). Yes, I am off to see Vice President Joe Biden. The Vice President is coming to my school along with Treasury Secretary Timothy Geitner and Education Secretary Whatshisname Duncan for a Middle Class Task Force Event.

I couldn't be more excited. This is my first political event of my college career. Really it's my first political event of my life. And I hope it will be the first of many. Today the Vice President and Secretaries Gietner and Duncan will be talking about education, its importance and affordability. As a college student studying at this institution thanks to the generosity of financial aid and Johns Hopkins, this issue affects me directly.

I'll be back here later to post my thoughts and an overviews.

Skipping Over Some Details, a Great Professor

I know I should be writing a true account of my life, complete with details and insights, but...there are some things I don't want to write about here. I'm usually totally open here. I've talked about sex, drugs, alcohol, everything. But right now there are some things I'm keeping to myself. I've talked about how I've struggled with bottling things up. Well, I guess this is proof. I'm not just omitting these thoughts and events from my blog. I haven't shared them with anyone including my two best friends, my sister, and my brother. And so I am just going to say that, I know it's unhealthy and I should talk to someone even if I can't write about it here but I'm just not ready right now.

Moving on. There are some things I would like to write about. Actually, I could probably write for hours right now because there are so many new things in my life that I'm excited about. But I'm just going to choose one thing - my Political Theory class.

Just out of interest, before writing up this blog post, which I planned on being very positive about the class and the teacher, I decided to check out Rate My Professor to see what others thought. Some interesting views on his class. I, for one, LOVE it.

I've written about it before because I was just so surprised and now, after my second "lecture," I only have more positive things to say. As I said in one of my earlier posts, I thought this class would be boring but it's a Political Theory class taught by a Philosophy professor. I don't care what a handful of previous disgruntled students (who probably did poorly in the class) said on a rating site, Professor Thomas appears not only to be funny and engaging but also extremely intelligent. [Note: Most of the reviews were indeed just as positive as my opinion but there were a few infantile responses that lead me to believe that they did poorly in the class and blamed the professor when they didn't keep up with the reading or participate in class].

Here are a few of the notes I took today:
-How do we come to have an interest in others, not in our gene pool (biological family), when from an evolutionary standpoint we only have an emotional investment in our own fates and the fates of our offsprings/biological family?

- Given that everyone is committed to his or her self-interest, does that mean we are committed as such at the expense of others? Can we be committed to our own self-interest without being selfish?

- What makes society viable? Basic Trust in each other enough?

- Can there be moral decency in a world where anonymity reigns supreme? Can society be stable if, when under the cloak of anonymity, most people would do nothing to help another?

We used the story of Kitty Genovese as an example to discuss these themes. Here is Kitty Genovese's story: When walking from the parking lot to her apartment in Queens, Kitty Genovese was attacked three times and eventually killed. The attacks took place in plain view of other apartments on the street and Kitty screamed for help. Lights turned on in windows, a total of 38 people witnessed the three attacks. Not one called the police, not after the first attack nor after the second. No call was made until after Kitty Genovese was already dead.

Why didn't those 38 people call the police? Are we all basically, biologically selfish?



It was a fascinating discussion, and I call it a discussion class even though it is a large lecture hall because Professor Thomas was constantly walking up and down the aisle calling on students for our opinions. He wasn't lecturing us at all but engaging in a lively discourse with us. And throughout the class he was joking and telling stories. I've come to the conclusion that he is just a little bit crazy because at several points he was yelling and jumping around. But it all somehow worked to make the class more engaged. Next semester I plan on trying to take his Philosophy 191 class because so far this single class has been the best academic experience of my life.

This is what college is all about.

Friends and Frats

I realize I am not writing every day anymore but college it turns out is like one, long continuous social event. I'm never really alone, I'm always with people even if I'm in my boxer shorts. Usually I'm the sort of person who needs my alone time but I'm finding that so far I'm loving all the excitement. I'm sure it will wear off in a few weeks but right now I'm just glad to have such great new friends.

I feel like so much has happened since I last updated. I've gone out to more overly-crowded and overly-stereotypical frat parties. I've made a ton of new friends, specifically some really awesome people on my floor. And I've gone to my first college football game.

I was starting to worry that my floor wouldn't become friends. People kept their doors closed and any friendships had been either pre-existing or early-born and early-closed. But Lisa and I kept our door open in an effort to be social that also doubled as a means to coax a nonexistent breeze through our stifling hot little room. Since my dorm is right across from the boys' bathroom we caught every guy walking past and quickly struck up conversations and started making friends. It seems so strange to think that it was only Thursday that we first hung out with the boys from 725 and the girls from 715. Now it feels like we've been friends for so long. We've already celebrated a birthday together and have inside jokes and planned a future business endeavor.

I'm still adjusting to living several states away from my best friends. Video chat, the great invention of the 21st century, can only do so much. It's hard for me to get a text from a distraught friend and not be able to be by her side to comfort her. Sigh.

Overall, though, I'm having fun. Sometimes I just stop in my tracks and think to myself, "This is just so COLLEGE," because really, everything I've heard about college has turned out to be true. From the slutty girls and creeper guys at the frat parties to the cheap beer to the drunken school spirit on game day (drinking before noon when still hungover from the night before) to the dormcest*.


In other news, my mom won a gold medal at Worlds in Vienna for rowing. She's been competing in World Championships with her crew team all week and she came in first in one of her races. Pretty fucking amazing.

That's all for today. It's the third day of my four day weekend so I'm taking it easy and planning on actually getting some work done because that's part of college, too. You know, learning and shit.


*Hooking up with someone on your floor. I may or may not be guilty of such a charge. And by "may or may not" I mean...definitely guilty. But that's whole different can of worms that I'm just letting sit unnoticed for a while so I can enjoy my life.

Living the Life

Yes, I am eating chocolate for breakfast. This is what college is all about.

That's really all I have to say at the moment. It tastes pretty yummy.

I Can Be Smart, Too?

College is supposed to make you smarter but I fear it has had the opposite effect. I am having trouble stringing together coherent thoughts to make up a record of my day. Instead I'll just use bullet points.
Today I:
- burned my thumb making my third cup of super-strong coffee illegally in my room (thank God for the French Press!!)
- learned to read and write five Arabic letters
- spent almost three hundred dollars on text books just for two classes
- napped
- sat in the grass on the quad and felt collegiate
- was surprised by a professor

Ok, that last one deserves some explanation because I'm actually kind of excited about it. I signed up for a political science class on a whim. I loved reading about politics in the news and hoped to one day report on international politics so I thought it would be nice to know more about the core of modern and traditional politics. So I thought I'd start with Political Theory. John Locke, Whatshisname Hobbs, and the likes. I wasn't expecting it to be a fun class. I thought it would be interesting but not fun by any means.

Then I see that the class is in Gifford Theater, a lecture class. Definitely not a fun class, I thought. But I sat down with my pen and clean new notebook prepared to learn. There were a lot of sophomores and upperclassmen but I think it was a pretty good mix of grades, which is nice. The professor walked in, an older man of color. I have horrible eyesight and was sitting towards the back of the theater so I couldn't quite tell if he was black or Indian or Middle Easter or what. But he spoke with a very distinctive accent. Great, I thought, a lecture with a professor I'm going to have trouble understanding.

But then he started asking questions. Not exactly how most lecture classes begin. "What do you think of evolutionary theory?" he asked the class. I had a moment of terror. Was I in the wrong class? Was this some biology class? What does Darwin have to do with political theory?

From that first, seemingly random question, he was off and running and he was pulling the class along with him. He wasn't lecturing us in any way, he was engaging us, challenging us to think. Are humans selfishi? Are humans essentially good but scared to help each other? Look at the Kitty Genovese case, 38 witnesses to a rape and not one called the police. Why?

It was a fascinating discussion on its own but Professor Thomas made it exciting and fun. He kept us on our toes, pointing to random students and asking their opinions. Joking around with us. He said "fuck" and "shit" and didn't use the pretentious vocabulary of academia even though I could tell he was extremely intelligent. At one point he gave one student the finger as a joke.

I have never been more shocked but in a great way. Now, I'm looking forward to the rest of the semester, eager to see what Professor Thomas comes up with next.

I think this is what I'm going to love the most about college: being surprised and challenged and engaged by great academic experiences.


Ok, now I have to memorize all the various forms of five Arabic letters and take a Grammar Slammer quiz for my Communications class (apparently some people can get to college and not know grammar...and they want to be journalists?).

College Success?

I can't believe I haven't written in three days. I can't believe I've only been at college for three days. Basically it's been a blur.

I feel like I should stand up at the front of the class and give a proud report about my college experiences. I picture myself with a bow in my hair, my hands behind my back, and a huge smile plastered on my face, "I'm making friends. And I haven't been roofie'd."

The only bad part so far is the weather. It's August but it's been rainy and cold compared to August in Baltimore. Yesterday I was caught in a monsoon on my way to meetings. Yes, I had meetings on a Saturday. Actually I had meetings all day from 10 AM to 5 PM yesterday. How on earth do they expect us to be alive at 10 AM on a Saturday morning? It was not a fun experience. But I did work out my schedule. I lost my clear Fridays but now I just have one class at like 11 so it's still not bad.

Ok, I'm going to work out now. It's been hard to find time to myself because I've just been going going going. Today I'm hoping to slow down and relax. Starting with my first trip to the gym.

No, Really. College.

Yep. I am sitting in my dorm room. It's a small room but it's nice.

I felt like moving into my college dorm should have been more...something. But I did it. Most of all, I just felt overwhelmed. Not by college or new people, but by all my SHIT. I thought packing everything up was hard. Well, unpacking it and stuffing it into a tiny room was ten times worse. For a while I just sat in my room, looking at the mess I had made and thought to myself, "Nope. I can't possibly fit my life into this tiny amount of space." For some reason whenever I pictured myself moving into my dorm room, I never actually thought about unpacking. I just pictured myself arriving on campus, walking into my dorm room, and poof! everything perfect just like in the Bed, Bath, and Beyond catalog. Not how it happened, let me tell you.

But I just finished hanging up my posters, the finishing touch on the room. I have Audrey Hepburn right above my desk, smily demurely down at me as I write, reminding me to be classy in all things. Then, next to her I have my coveted Bon Iver concert poster. Authentic. Bought on e-Bay from Australia. Not only is it beautiful art but Bon Iver is my favorite musician. His songs just make me cry because of how beautiful they are. Then, over my bed I have Hearts by Jim Dine. Anyone who knows me knows how I love Pop Art (of which Jim Dine is a great example) and explains why I have a print of Andy Warhol's Butterflies and a poster of one of his favorite quotes hanging on my closet doors. Overall, my dorm room looks exactly like I always imagined it would be...even if it is a little smaller that I would like.

I am loving getting to know my roommate. She is such a sweetheart and I already know we're going to be friends. It's nice to have someone to share giggles with when surrounded by new people. Also, I love that we are already giggling together*.

After unpacking, we had Orientation things to do including the dreaded and dreadful ice breakers. Now it is midnight and I am exhausted. I woke up at 7 AM and drove for six hours only to spend the rest of the day being exhaustively nice with people I don't know. I underestimated how exhausting it is to make people like you. I'm just so used to not having to try because I've always had such great friends that love me no matter what, it was effortless. It's just not the same when meeting all new people, no matter how talkative and friendly I am by nature.

So sleep now. More new things to experience tomorrow.

Overall, I think this is shaping up to be a great year**.


* Funny how things change. First impressions are so misleading.

**Ironic, isn't it?

Sooooo..........

College? I leave very early tomorrow morning.

That is how I feel right now. Just one long, never ending ellipsis. Like this..............................................


Today is my last day at home for a long time. It's a weird feeling. I'm not walking around seeing things and feeling pangs of "this is the last time this" or "this is the last time that." Nope. I'm just sitting on the big purple couch like it's any other day.

I don't really know how to put my feelings into words. I don't really want to talk to much about how I'm feeling. Firstly, because I don't really know how to feel at the moment.



I am quite tired. I didn't go to sleep last night until 5 AM because...well, really that's just what I do. I went to my friend Hayley's apartment to see everyone one last time before leaving. But it didn't feel like a goodbye sort of night.

I walked into the apartment completely unprepared for meeting with a certain fella, who I haven't seen or spoken to in weeks. And then there he was. It's not that I didn't know how to act around him or that I felt awkward or anything. It's just that I wasn't expecting to see him and it threw me off.


Since I took most of the summer off from blogging here, I haven't really written about this yet. But...well, I don't really know what to say about it except that I hung out with a "certain fella" a lot at the beginning of the summer and then we just kind of drifted apart, as sometimes happens in life. But...I haven't confronted any feelings I've had since the ending of sorts. I just kind of went on. I didn't talk about it and I just repressed any feelings.

Now, I have a long history of repressing feelings. It's something I really struggle with. For someone who writes and journals and blogs all the time, it must seem weird for me to say that I repress my feelings because aren't I writing about them all the time? Well, in a way I am and it really does help. But I still really struggle with actually accepting my feelings be they of sorrow or loneliness or embarrassment or happiness or heartbreak.

So, to see this "certain fella" last night without warning just threw me off kilter. Then, it was made worse because of a comment he made.*

Ok, that's enough of that. I'm still glad I went to Hayley's. [I love what I overhear when I hang out with them (example: "Wait, don't use the bathroom just yet. There's cocaine in there.")] So overall it was a strange yet normal night. I kind of wish it had been different.




Now, this blog post has turned out to be........Well, just that....................

I'm going to go sit out on our back porch and just look out at our farm and love it for its beauty.







*The comment: "It's been two and a half months now."
Two and a half months ago. That's when we stopped hanging out. And that's how long he's been sober. While I was with him, he got blackout drunk several times. Then, we stop seeing each other and he gets sober. I just felt weird about it. I still do feel weird about it. I don't know what it means. I'm sure it's nothing but the timing just feels weird.

[note: we were never going out, just hanging out/hooking up a few times]

Traffic and Literature

My whole life is packed away into two giant plastic boxes and one huge duffel bag. I'm ready to get out of this town but I have to wait two more days...I should have waited to pack because now I'm all excited and have nowhere to go, not to mention nothing to wear because I packed everything away.

I am sitting in Barnes and Noble typing this up today because I had to drop Johnny off at work and now have time to kill before my hair appointment. What I love about this spot is that I snagged a window table so I can look out and watch the traffic in the Towson circle. Anyone who knows Towson know that the circle is the center of town, atop one of the tallest hills in the county. And the 5 main roads in town converge in one big traffice circle. It's a two lane roundabout and each road feeding into it is a two lane street. No one really knows how to drive the circle and it's generally complete mayhem. That's why I love it so much.

Ok, I have nothing to blog about so I am going to steal a survey from Hayley G. Hoover about BOOKS.

1. What author do you own the most books by?
Sarah Dessen, then J. K. Rowling, then Jane Austen

2. What book do you own the most copies of?
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (4 copies...I am about to buy copy number 4 before I leave B&N, it is sitting on the table next to me all nice and pretty)

3. Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
A little bit but it's ok b/c this isn't formal writing.

4. What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Mr. Darcy, of course! Not a very original answer but I read P&P for the first time when I was twelve and Mr. Darcy just seemed like the perfect man (especially when compared with the pre-teen monsters in my middle school class!

5. What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children; i.e., Goodnight Moon does not count)?
I reread books like crazy so it's hard to say. Pride & Prejudice probably. Although the Harry Potter series runs a close second. If you count listening to books on tape, too, then definitely HP b/c every family roadtrip since I was about 10 we've listened to Jim Dale read Harry Potter to us.

6. What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
Little Women. I read it continuously for all of fourth and fifth grades. I was reading above my grade level from third grade onward so I first read Little Women in fourth grade and just fell in love. Although, I did eat up the Thoroughbred series, too.

7. What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
Breaking Dawn. Sorry but it's true.

8. What is the best book you've read in the past year?
A Tale of Two Cities. I can't believe I hadn't read it before! I was never fond of Dickens because of an unfortunate experience with Great Expectations in my freshman English class. But I have now decided to reread Great Expectations, too.

9. If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
I could steal Hayley's answer of Franny and Zooey but I won't. I'll say Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States. All American students should read this alongside their American history textbook.

10. What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
I wouldn't wish that fate on any book!

11. What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
Any JD Salinger. I'm pretty sure JD has prevented any major movies depicting his works as it should be because his writing NEEDS to be experienced on the page.

12. Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
I've never dreamt about an author. I'm sure I've dreamt about a book or a literary character but I can't seem to remember any right now. My dreams are usually horrific nightmares so I don't think books really play a big part in my twisted mind's night-terror.

13. What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?
I've read my share of trashy chick-lit. Oh, God, the Shopaholic series.

14. What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
The Canterbury Tales in the original Middle English.

15. What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?
I am ashamed to say that I've never seen an obscure Shakespeare play live. I've only seen the popular ones on stage (Midsummer's, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Twelfth Night)

16. Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
RUSSIANS. I'll read Tolstoy every day for the rest of my life...Ok, that may be a slight exaggeration but I do love me some Russian literature (Chekhov! Come on)

17. Roth or Updike?
Neither. Sorry.

18. David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
DAVE EGGERS. But Sedaris is good, too, just not as good as Eggers for me.

19. Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Shakespeare Shakespeare Shakespeare! Although, Chaucer holds a warm spot in my heart for giving me the Wife of Bath and my senior thesis.

20. Austen or Eliot?
Just look at my first few answers and then guess. (I'll give you a hint: AUSTEN!)

21. What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
I haven't actually read the Iliad. *hangs head in shame*

23. Play?
HAMLET.

[A tractor trailer just went through the circle! Oh God, it was priceless to watch the other motorists react with either blatant horror or frenzied exasperation.]

24. Poem?
anyone lived in a pretty how town by E. E. Cummings (see blog title for proof of my love)

25. Essay?
I can't say that I've read any essays that have stuck with me. I'll get on this one and report back.

27. Who is your favorite writer?
"Writer," as in for their unique writing style, I have to go with Salinger. But if the question is "author," for whose novels I love more, that would be a different answer.

28. Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
I'm not going to say Stephenie Meyer.

29. What is your desert island book?
P&P. Unoriginal but there you go.

30. And... what are you reading right now?
The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray. It's the last of her Gemma Doyle series and I never got around to reading it.



Ok, there you go. Books books books and more books.

Stuff Stuff Stuff

Why do I have so much stuff? I don't know how I accumulated so much clothing but now that I have to pack it all away I am suddenly realizing that I might have a shopping problem. When it's all packed away in drawers it's easy to forget how much of it there is. But then I pull it all out and I realize that, oh yeah, i have enough clothes to fill up three dressers and a large closet. And then the shoes. I normally just throw them all together on the last few shelves of my closet organizer but, oh my god, it's a small mountain. And how do I have so many pairs of jeans? Different colors and styles but I think I literally have more jeans than there are days of the week. I don't know how I have so many clothes.

All this time I've been thinking of myself as a down-to-earth girl. I enjoy a good book more than a pair of designer shoes. But maybe I'm wrong about myself. Actually, ok I know I'm wrong about myself. Not that I care about the designer name but I do love clothes (not as much as books but still).

Argh! I hate how I have so much when so many people in the world have so little. And I hate how attached I am to my books and my clothes. It's just stuff. I could get on without it all but I like having it. Does that make me a bad person?


In other news, all this packing has made me realize that I really will be leaving in two days. It makes me want to go sit outside with the dogs all day just soaking in the beauty of our family's farm. Oddly enough I think I'm going to miss my dogs more than I miss my parents. Ok, I'm sure that's not true but I really am going to miss my little babies (who are not babies at all, they are 7 years old and quite large and stinky).

Ok, so all this "I'm going to miss this and I'm going to miss that" stuff is annoying and stupid. I'm not leaving forever. In fact I'll be home a lot of weekends because I don't have classes on Fridays so I have 3 day weekends. Really leaving for college is just a headache because of all the packing.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

There is something wrong with me. I've lost my appetite. I haven't eaten in two days except for a few bites of a muffin. I spent all of yesterday sleeping on the couch even though I had gotten a good amount of sleep the night before. And last night I had the worst nightmare.

I've always gotten nightmares because I have an over-active imagination (I wasn't allowed to watch crime shows until high school because I wouldn't sleep for weeks imagining someone coming into my room at night and murdering me. Scary war movies and many horror movies were fine, though, because I knew those weren't likely to happen in my real life). But this nightmare just left me shaking. It was disturbing.

In most of my nightmares, someone is trying to kill me or my loved ones. I spend way too many nights running for my life from murderers. And I always end up dead.

Last night, however, I dreamt that I was the murderer. I brutally murdered all of my family, including my extended family. And I was so cool about it. I didn't even have a reason for murdering everyone but I went into each of their rooms while they were getting ready for bed, talked to them pleasantly for a few minutes, and then murdered them for no reason. And I wrote everything down in my journal, describing every single detail of what I did to each person. They were gruesome murders, too. It turns my stomach.

Then, after I murdered all these people, I just went back to bed as if nothing had happened. The next morning when one of the few survivors discovered all the murders, I felt nothing. I just told the police I hadn't seen anything and went on with my life.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why would I dream something so horrific?! That is just not normal.

I'm not mad at my family. We aren't fighting. We're on good terms. I don't want to kill anyone! I couldn't kill anyone if I tried. I can't even eat meat because I am so sensitive to life. What the hell is wrong with me?

And now I just feel like my whole day is ruined before it's even begun. It's my sister's birthday. She is 24 today (how is she so old?!). We are going out to dinner later but I have to spend the day packing for college, which is turning into a different sort of nightmare. I'm still shaken from my dream (I woke up an hour ago), I can barely do anything. Maybe packing will distract me by focusing on small things.

Deep breath. It was just a dream. And off I go.

Veal or Vegan?

I leave for college in 5 days. Finally, I am finished with goodbyes. Now I just can't wait to get out of Baltimore myself. Everyone else has gone. I want to get started on my own college experience. I know I said I wanted this summer to last forever but it has to end. It's time for summer to end.

Last night we went out for a family dinner. We rarely go out to dinner as a family. It was a nice change. Everyone ate too much expensive food and my grandfather got sloshed. Everyone at the table ordered veal except for me. I almost cried just at the sight of so much baby cow meat. And it wasn't just small helpings of veal for everyone. They got veal shanks, the most meat I have ever seen on a plate. One for each person. The meat falling off the bone.

Ok, so I'm not a vegetarian but I am moving in that direction. And I try not to be preachy or anything about it but when every single person orders a veal shank, it really got to me. First of all, I don't like the idea of eating a dead baby cow or a dead baby anything. Actually I don't like eating dead animal meat in general. The thought of putting the muscles of a dead animal in my mouth is not appetizing to me. But I realize that people love meat and in general I say, "to each his own." I don't like eating dead animals but that's just me.

Secondly, I just have to object to how the food industry is run. Everyone has heard the horror stories. It has to make you pause and think about what you are supporting by grilling up that steak. However, there is the free range option. I respect people who eat free range. I think everyone, if they choose to eat meat, should make the effort to eat free range meat. Unfortunately that is not the case.

So, I didn't intend this blog post to turn into a discussion of vegetarianism. I'm not even a full vegetarian yet but I am planning on becoming one once I figure out an alternative, nutritious diet that I can eat easily.

A Lazy End To My Summer

Yesterday I spent the day lounging around the house. It felt like two years ago. Every summer before this one I have spent just lazing about the house, reading, getting Chilly Willy's with my brothers. This summer I had a regular job, one for which I did a lot of driving. I really wasn't at home that much this summer. Whenever I had a day off work I would be out, running erands or visiting friends. Even in the evenings after work I would go out. I haven't had much time this summer to just sit around, read a book and just let the hours roll by leisurely. It was a nice change.

The only time I left the house yesterday was for one last goodbye. I met two of my best friends from high school, Dena and Liz, at Rita's Italian Ice. First, we sat in my car and talked for a long time. Then, we drove up the street to surprise our friend Fitz, who was at home packing up a storm. We spent another hour just hanging out in her street.

I think it was the best sort of goodbye. Talking about anything and everything just like we always do, nothing special but at the same time one of those nights that you'll remember. I'm going to miss those sorts of nights - just sitting with my best friends, talking and laughing. As we stood in Fitz's front lawn, moving slowly back toward my car, I remember thinking to myself that I wished we would never make it back to the car and that moment could just last forever or at least another four years.

Sigh.

So far today is shaping up to be just like yesterday, lounging around the house. I actually really love it. Later, I might go see Harry Potter 6 with my brothers because Danny still hasn't seen it.

I woke up about an hour ago and so far have hung the laundry and written a blog post. I did check Facebook, which bothers me. I need to get away from Facebook but it's hard when I have to say goodbye to so many people in real life but can find them as close as ever on Facebook, as if nothing had changed. But this time checking FB, I made a surprising discovery that put a damper on my morning. I have a sneaking suspicion that an old friend has prevented me from seeing his profile. It just seems so petty. It reminded me that there are parts of this summer that I really wish had turned out differently.

And just like that, I can't wait to get away to college.

Lessons Learned

It's safe to say that I had a fun summer. I still have a week left but I will packing and laying low. And so I feel comfortable looking back over the summer as a whole. And I can honestly say that I've learned a lot.

First, I've learned how to take care of an infant. Yesterday was my last day with Baby Isabelle and I had such a good summer with her that I cried when I said goodbye. At the beginning of the summer I had no idea what I was doing. To make matters worse Isabelle had acid reflux and was a fussy baby. Once her parents sorted out medicine to help with Isabelle's acid reflux she calmed down. And after three months she almost never cried when I was with her because I could tell the signs when she was hungry or tired or needed a diaper change. She was smiley and talkative (in her little baby noise way). When I would be in the room she woud smile and follow me with her eyes. It was a great experience.

Second, I learned who my real friends are. Cheesy cheese cheese, I know. But I realize that I'm probably only going to stay in close contact with a few of my friends from high school. This summer I just learned who those people are. There weren't really any falling outs. I just grew closer with my best friends and solidified our relationships for years to come. Ok, that last part ventured a little too far into sappy world so I'll stop there.

Third, I learned how to be open with my parents. I'm the youngest of four. My parents have seen it all. They know what I'm up to. So why disrespect them by lying? I've done that a few times this summer and in the past. This summer my friends have been stupid and I've actually hit a few snags with my parents. I haven't gotten in trouble, though, because my parents let me have my independence.

After Facebook once again came back to bite me in the ass (my friend's mom is on fb and saw some things she wasn't supposed to see), I decided to just be open with my parents. I'm going to college next week, it makes sense. My parents have always known and accepted certain parts of my life (operating under the "don't-let-me-see-it" system) but now I'm just showing them the same respect they've shown me. I trust them.


That post turned out to be rather...toolish. I've been spending too much time with Johnny.


Oh and I'm trying to decide what to take with me to college - books, DVDs, etc. It's so hard because I'm just used to having my books around me at all times. They're like a safety blanket almost. I made an initial pile of everything I would like to have with me and it's like thirty books. Argh! I can only take like ten books with me. How can I choose?!

A Return and Many Departures

I return to blogging just as I am about to depart for school. I do not leave for another week but most of my friends have already left and so I decided to return to blogging so that they may get a daily dose of Rosalee while they are at school and I am still stuck in Baltimore.

It's been one of those days when I just sigh every five minutes, the kind of sigh that only goes along with many farewells. Saying goodbye is exhausting. Even more exhausting, though, is the anticipation of saying goodbye.

Going to college is exciting. But this part right now is not fun. A week from tomorrow I will be moving in to my dorm, starting a new adventure in my life. I know that it is scary but most of all it is exciting. But that is a week away. Right now, though, I am bogged down in farewells that leave me with tears in my eyes.

I'm sure I could go on babbling about this bittersweet feeling but it taxes my patience. And so I'll just let this song say it all:

I took the summer off from blogging

you may have noticed.

Back to Real Life

Where have I been?

I have spent the last week in a mystical place called Ocean City, Maryland. This is a place unlike any other in the world. It is populated by a fascinating population of unique creatures known as White Trash. It is a beautiful place. Only in OC MD can you walk down Coastal Highway (the main street that happens to be a 4 lane highway) and get not one cat call, not two cat calls, but a grand total of 15 cat calls. There are Shoobie sightings to be had every day. It is not uncommon, indeed it is actually legal, to ride in the bed of a pickup truck. It is the chosen mode of transport for the White Trash. Males mainly ride up and down Coastal Highway all day, some even have convenient signs with slogans such as "Fuck me, Baby!" in case their throats are coarse from yelling.

That is Ocean City on any given day all summer. But last week was special. It was SENIOR WEEK. Most high schools have some form of senior week. I have no idea if it is anything like my experience. But here is my experience:

Rent a house at the beach for a week. 17 girls, no parents.
140 streets in Ocean City. Crammed into the many houses ad high rise buildings are the other graduating seniors in all the high school in the Towson area, actually in all of Maryland. The town is overrun with graduates. And alcohol.

I'm not exactly sure what is normal for high school seniors to be drinking but I doubt it is as much alcohol as was cosumed last week on Senior Week. 8 straight nights. Pre-game then party. Sleep off the hangover on the beach. I won't go into specifics but I am pretty sure the amount of contraband consumed was enough to classify most of us as alcoholics.

But it was one week. One week of guilt-free, rule-free, parent-free partying. There was much throwing up (not by me because I know my relative limits). There were many random hookups. There were many police citations. There were many drunken fist fights. There were several bad experiences involving Oxy-Codone. There was also a bad experience involving a cactus. There were numerous rides on the Drunk Bus. There were games of drunken put-put. There wre awkward run-ins. There was a hell of a shitload of sunburn. There were mysterious, high rappers. There were crabs of both kinds. There were more drunken texts than possible to count. And, more than anything else, there was DRAMA. All in seven days.

It was a week to remember...if only we could actually remember.

I won't go into specifics. Looking back there were fun parts (walking up to a random party on 84th street and finding out that the random house just happened to be my cousins'), there were meaningful parts (watching the sunrise on the beach with my best friends while talking about everything that meant the most to us), there were funny parts (Liz singing Christian rock songs while drunk and walking down Coastal Highway), there were normal parts (every day spent on the beach just chilling with friends), there were annoying parts (belligerent drunks), there were sad parts (friendships ending), and there were bad parts (worrying about a friend of a friend almost dying on our bathroom floor). But put it all together and I wouldn't change a thing. I wouldn't even change hooking up with Nick. I'll take it all and still wish I had it to do over again.


Reading: Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama
Reading this on the beach is fun. It's an amazing book and I'm not just saying that because I am a supporter of Barack Obama. It is just a great story and is very well-written.

Listening: CNN on in the background
I really need to get back into my real life, which includes following the news obessively.

Snuggling (Cute and Creepy and Confusing): the abridge version

The cutest little baby in the world is asleep in the other room right now. I am at work, taking care of precious Isabelle. She is only 8 weeks old an has the biggest blue eyes you will ever see. I think I am in love with this child and I am getting paid to snuggle with her all day (oh and also change her poopy diapers and listen to he wails when she is upset, which is often because the poor thing has acid reflux and it makes her fussy. I think it's true what they say about the reason for babies to be cute, because otherwise we would not put up with them).

Working as a nanny for a newborn baby this summer also has another effect - it is the greatest birth control in the world. Seriously. I do not want a baby. After this experience, I will never be casual about birth control. Not that it's something I would take casually but now I'm just more motivated to ensure with 100% guarantee that I will not get pregnant for many, many years.

[Insert non-awkward segue here to BOYS because I need to rant.]

We are going to talk about Snuggling. Take from that what you will. Actually, we're not really going to talk about Snuggling. Unless you use it as a metaphor. Sure, let's use it as a metaphor but read on at your own risk because this next part will all sound extremely creepy and very confusing. Snuggling wasn't the best choice of metaphor but I think it's only fitting that the metaphor be creepy because the situation is infuriating and I'm really only saying that because I don't feel like coming up with another metaphor and I already typed the whole creepy thing up.

What do you do when the guy you want to Snuggle with is best friends with your older brother and will not Snuggle with you because of said older brother?

Then, what do you do when your older brother's other best friend, and also close friend to Non-Snuggler No. 1, has no problem trying to Snuggle with you? In fact this Overly-Snuggly Guy is constantly trying to Snuggle with you.

And Overly-Snuggly Guy just happens to be the guy you liked for two years before finally moving on with your life just in time for him to decide he finally likes you.

And part of you still does want to Snuggle with Overly-Snuggly Guy because he's funny and nice and a great guy.

But really you want to Snuggle with Non-Snuggler No. 1.

But Non-Snuggler No. 1 has watched as Overly-Snuggly Guy be blatantly all over me [awkward switch to 1st person] at parties and it's not like I was pushing him away all that forcefully.

But now Non-Snuggler No. 1 probably thinks I like Overly-Snuggly Guy and not him and will further not Snuggle with me.

Really I shouldn't be Snuggling with either Non-Snuggler No. 1 or Overly-Snuggly Guy because my older brother would get upset.

And I'm halfway decided to just hook up with Overly-Snuggly Guy already.

Except I really like Non-Snuggler No. 1.


Fuck, I have such a head ache. I only got three hours of sleep the past two nights because of Boys and Alcohol, that deadly combination I hate so dearly. Why do Boys and Alcohol make everything so fucking confusing? If Senior Week wasn't next week I totally would. Speaking of which, Senior Week is next week!! Since Non-Snuggler No. 1 and Overly-Snuggly Guy won't be at the beach for the whole week I'll have time off from their mind games.

EDIT: And how did everything turn out? With me hurt and back to as if nothing ever happened. That's what a summer will get you.




Reading: Collected Stories of Gabriel Garcia Marquez
LOVE him.

Listening: Music from Baby's mobile. The same incessant song over and over and over again, which is just driving me even more insane.

She Is Alive

I have not written at all in several days. And I mean at all. Normally, I write in this blog, my nightly journal, and almost every day I write at least a few paragraphs of something else. But right now I'm in a writing rut. Mainly because I am living my life. And, yes, it doesn't feel quite the same to be skipping out on my daily writing but I am really enjoying myself.

Right now I am sitting on the Big Purple Couch with my brother and my friend Ryan. They are playing guitar and we have just been talking on and off about shit. Earlier six of my other friends came over to just hang out for no reason except to sit around with each other. Today was also my first day of work. It is going to be a long summer. The baby I am watching, Isabelle, is very fussy and spends most of the day crying.

Let's see. A lot has been going on in my life. I graduated. White Dance was just about the most fun I ever had in high school. But of course afterwards I learned, just as I always do, that when I mix boys and alcohol I always end up confused. Yes, boys are stupid but I'm stupid too. I'll admit it.

I love this feeling right now. Sitting here, listening to music, talking, my whole summer spread out before me. Next week is Senior Week, which will no doubt be the craziest week of the summer. Crazy in many, many ways. I am staying in a beachfront house with 17 of my friends from school. A house full of 18 girls? Basically it will be just straight drama. Already one girl has dropped out, another girl has messed up sleeping arrangements. There's tension between drinkers and non-drinkers. I've spent much of the past few days on the phone talking about Senior Week drama and it hasn't even begun yet. But I love it.

I have a theory. Well, it's not so much a theory as a proven fact. Girls like drama. I know we all say that we hate it . I have always been the first person to say that I hate drama. But now I realize that's a lie. I can't help it. Just yesterday, I heard a rumor about a friend. But I didn't just talk to that particular friend. I felt the need to call up two girls to get their perspective. And it's not like I'm consciously thinking I want to gossip. I just think to myself, "I wonder what Samantha thinks. This affects her, too."
And, don't get me wrong, I don't spread nasty rumors. The example I was talking about just now involved a friend of ours who dropped out of our Senior Week house because she had problems with drinking. That is obviously something she should be talking to us about. It is something that affects everyone in the house. I wasn't just calling Samantha to talk about how bitchy So-and-So is, isn't she such a slut? I don't do that.


Hmm....I've gotten off on a tangent. But I like that because when I'm writing I like to get off topic and just ramble around in my mind for a while.
Now, as I have been doing for the past week, I am off to just enjoy tonight. Yes, I have to work tomorrow at 9 AM but I'm not tired and I want to sit here for hours doing nothing with good music and good people.

Reading: The Wasteland - T. S. Eliot
A poem, but I found the book of Eliot poems in my bedroom when cleaning (I am currently in the middle of a massive purge) and I just had to stop and read it. I love T. S. Eliot...yeah, I'm a poetry nerd.

Listening: Johnny and Ryan strumming on the guitar

Let My Future Commence

Yes, I have officially graduated from high school.

I don't feel any different. Going through the ceremony didn't feel like anything particularly exciting. Maybe I am devoid of all emotions but I don't really feel anything at the moment. Walking through the Gateway (a tradition at my school, there is an actual gateway we walk through on our first day of school and then at graduation), I turned to my friend Molly and said, "We're graduated." It felt nice to speak the words and I certainly felt happy. But now that several hours have passed I've lulled back into my every day life. Right now it could be any old Wednesday night. Who knew that just seven hours ago I was getting ready to graduate in my white gown carrying my red roses.

Oh, well. It is what it is. I am now graduated. It is real.

I was nostalgic about two weeks ago. I will be excited in about two months. Right now I am just looking forward to a great summer. Right now I just want to enjoy being 18.

Starting tomorrow night. White Dance. Since the dance is not affiliated with the school it is generally known as Drunk Dance. We're graduated and we like to celebrate by insane drunkenness. But we also like to dress up. This year our theme is Pirates of 2009. We take our white graduation dress (which is butt ugly and yet cost $300 to buy from some fancy wedding gown shop) and decorate it. And I'm sure Captain Jack Sparrow will be proud of how much rum will be consumed.

I have graduated and now I am off to hang out with my brothers, read a book, and finalize plans for tomorrow night. Just a relaxing Wednesday night. Except now I am no longer a high school student. And there's no getting around the fact that in a few months everything will be different. So tonight and this summer I'm going to enjoy this feeling of freedom every moment that I can.


Reading: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling
The marathon continues. Page 319
also
My Diploma - it sure is pretty

Listening: Ain't No Reason - Brett Dennen
After graduation (and a million pictures) my family and I went out to dinner downtown at a great restaurant called Woodbury Kitchen. As always the discussion turned to politics. This song says what I want to say about the world.

Whirlwind

1. I went to the Orioles' game today. And we won!

2. I did not blog on Saturday.

3. I have no idea what is going on in the world right now.

4. Graduation is two days away.

5. Why can't my life slow down for just a second?


My weekend flew by in a haze of cousins. Family members flooded into the house but I also spent much of my time hanging out with some of my best friends. I ate too many cupcakes. I played Pooh Sticks. And the light, ever present fog of high school drama still hung around my life. Yes, graduation is two days away and there is still drama. Boy drama, friend drama, drunken drama, Senior Week drama, even old drama. I've come to the conclusion that this drama that has defined my life for the past four years will never really go away. It will only ebb and flow, ever changing but ever present, and it will always pop up at the worst times.

Now, I'm off to read the New York Times because I really have absolutely what has been going on in the world. I half expect to read that the whole world has imploded except for Baltimore, Maryland.


Reading: The New York Times, and still on HP 3
I haven't had much time to read what with all the cousins and cupcakes and drama.

Listening: She's in Love from The Little Mermaid Broadway Soundtrack
It has been stuck in my head all weekend. Unfortunately, I can't tell if it's true in my life or not. It doesn't feel exactly what the song describes, my feelings are more of a head ache than anything else. Boys are stupid! But I might be falling for one anyway.

Congratulations! I'm Going To Go Kill Myself Now.

Nothing like a day spent doing manual labor in the sweltering heat. Sometimes I just love living on a farm.

This weekend is a solid block of graduation parties. Plus, my own is on Sunday, which means that I have family coming in from several states and I have to pretend to like everyone. I have to have the same conversation about a million times in one day:

Annoying Relative: Congratulations!

Me: [Force a smile because just the word "congratulations" pisses me off now that I've heard it twenty million times] Thanks!

Annoying Relative: How does it feel to be graduated? [Look! I am trying to sound interested in your life even though I barely know you.]

Me: Great! I can't believe I'm finally graduated! [I'm just going to use as many exclamation points as possible because maybe it will sound like it's the first time I am having this conversation.]

Annoying Relative: So where are you going to college?

Me: Syracuse University. I'm so excited! [Actually this is the tenth time in an hour I'm having this conversation, I am no longer excited. I want to kill myself.]

Annoying Relative: And what will you be studying? [Probably drinking by the looks of it. I thought she was supposed to be smart.]

Me: Journalism. Syracuse has a great program. [Seriously. Newhouse is one of the best undergraduate Journ schools in the country. I'm not stupid. Seriously.]

Awkward Pause.

Annoying Relative: [Trying to figure out how to end the conversation quickly and get more cake] That sounds great. I know you'll do well.


Might as well shoot me now.


Reading: HP 3
Listening:

An Engraved Pen

Today I won an award for writing (specifically the schools Excellence in Journalism Award). I was given a pen engraved with my name. It's pretty bad ass.

Ironically, I don't feel like writing today. Instead I am just going to sign off. This counts as a daily blog post.

Starving for Fashion

Imagine a girl. She is starving. Hasn't eaten a proper meal in months. She only survives by ignoring her painful hunger and focusing on distractions. But she's just so hungry. She can't deny it.

Now imagine this girl suddenly discovering free food spread out before her. Not just any free food, but all of her favorite foods, all in one place spread out specifically for her. The sign says it's free so the girl doesn't bother to read the fine print at the bottom. She just eats. She stuffs her face. And it all feels so good. It's delicious, the best food she's ever eaten. She eats all of that food down to the last blueberry. God, it tasted so good.

Then, after a few minutes of satisfaction, her stomach turns over. She hasn't been used to such rich food. She had been surviving on scraps, the scraps of scraps, next to nothing. All of the succulent food sits heavily in her stomach and the next thing she knows she is getting sick. She feels awful and only now does she read the fine print on the sign. It says that the food is free but if you eat it, you sell your soul to the devil.


OK, that girl is me. Except I wasn't starved from eating, I was starved from shopping. And the free food, all of the delicious free food, was Anthropologie.

I hadn't bought a new piece of clothing in months. I just didn't have the money. But today I cashed a check and had an excuse to go shopping. I needed a dress for Baccalaureate. Well, I bought a dress. It is beautiful. The perfect dress. Cute but not too fancy. I'll wear it again. It was a size 2, which I thought would be too small but if fit perfectly and it was the last one in the store.

But God I feel so sick now. I'm disgusted with myself. And I feel like I've sold out, sold my soul to American consumerism.

But it's just so pretty. Anthropologie, specifically their dresses, are my kryptonite.


Reading: the price tag of my new dress. $98.
I'm ashamed of myself. I can't afford to be buying $98 dresses. I wouldn't have even tried it on but I had vowed not to buy a dress over $100. Well, it's not over $100 but just barely.
Oh, and I'm also still reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Listening: Juno soundtrack

Isn't High School Funny?

High school is filled with shifting friendships. Alliances are made and ended quickly. It is easy to meet a new person, become infatuated, and spend weeks as best friends, inseparable. It is just as easy for a single event or lack thereof to cut friendships apart. In high school, as is typical with teenagers, these cuts are often jagged, ugly. And maybe it does happen all the time but it doesn't make that cut any less painful.

I've experienced the seemingly petty drama of a friendship between two teenage girls falling apart. In my case, it certainly didn't feel petty. It felt awful. To lose your best friend hurts. To end a friendship that had defined the first two years of high school is a painful but surprisingly easy feat.

Sometimes boys come in the way, sometimes other friendships, sometimes family or school. But in my case I never really knew. Not pinpointing the exact reason why Betty (fake name) and I stopped being best friends and became wistful memories and awkward silence was much worse than a good, solid, "You slept with my boyfriend."

Maybe twenty years down the line I will look back on this falling out and laugh at how unnecessarily dramatic high school makes life. But also, maybe just maybe, I will be able to call up Betty and laugh with her about it.

Graduation is a week away. That is why I wrote Betty a Senior Letter. I didn't expect my letter to make a difference but I wanted to graduate having said everything I had wanted to say. Betty and I had ended our friendship abruptly, without discussion. Everything had been left completely unsaid. So I said them in the letter. It's funny how you can say so many things in a letter and not face-to-face. But I've always been better at writing than speaking.

Then, yesterday I received a message of Facebook. It was from Betty.

Now, after all the drama so typical of high school but not any less painful, a week before graduation. Betty and I are speaking again. We have plans to hang out. We have plans to keep in touch when we go to college. One of the first things we said to each other was "I'm sorry! I've missed you." And just like that, funny how it's so easy, we're friends again. Just like nothing had ever happened.

Isn't life, isn't high school, funny?


Reading: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling
Still continuing in my Harry Potter summer reading marathon

Listening: Ghost - Laura Marling