Summer School...

HERE I COME!!!!

THE GYM, NO LINES, SMALLER CLASSES, REGULAR BLOGGING, SILENCE, and FRIDAY'S OFF.

Time to pack.

Oh Lindsay...

So Lindsay Lohan is going to Rehab again for coke and partying and i am still trying to get my financial aid shit together so i can go to summer school. I think fate is against me. I don't want to party and snort coke, i just want to go to summer school and even that is becoming hard to do.

I like school. Trust me. I was always big on it when i was younger, probably because it was free, but sometimes it seems ridiculous to me that i have to pay(or at least be in terrible debt) for wanting to get an education. There are some days(once again with these some days) where i want to throw my hands up at college in general. Drop out(full of debt of course), and just go on with my life.

I don't post it ,because i am too embarrassed and jealous, but i read or rather look at a popular Canadian photo blog of this kid my age who have chosen to do other things with his life. Forgoing college he has taken up a career to be a photographer. His photo-blog is full of laughter and freedom that he and his very attractive friends have while enjoying parties, concerts and band photo shoots, without the look of "Oh shit when i get out of school i am going to be in so much debt" on their face.

I swear that is what my face look like every morning and night.

I don't think of dropping out often, and i would never do it, but there is always the frustration with school and money issues, and crap like that. There has always been this small part of me, my very impulsive side, that just wants to go "F this, I'm heading to Europe for a year to find myself(whatever that means) call the cell to reach me"

Sometimes i don't know if the benefits of going to college out weighs everything else. But i only feel that way I'm frustrated. I only feel like booking plans to England in a heartbeat over returning to another semester of debt full college when i have to think about how to pay for all this stuff. It just seems unfair. Just saying.

Anyway.

My memorial day was spent driving 4 hours to pick up my brother who was stranded in another town, and 4 hours driving brother back from town he was stranded in.

Last week my brother told me and my mother that we has heading to the beach with some friends for a 2 weeks. By friend of course he meant this new chick he has been seeing for a while. My brother has never been able to stay anywhere for a 2 weeks. NEVER. So me and my mom were making bets on how long he would really make it.

We were kind of happy he was leaving. My brother is loud, and messy, and smokes in the house. He scares the cats, eats everything in sight, and still manages to ask my mother for money. He's pretty much a jackass. So 2 weeks without him, was like heaven on earth. The house was quiet, there was no smell of smoke, and most importantly i moved the cable box from his room into mine, and watched a million episodes of Howard Stern(I know, i know, but he's so funny).

My mom and i were having a pretty good Saturday(along with our pretty good week) until my brother called. We had spent the day at a vintage clothes store digging for funny tee shirts. Other than there being so many people cramped in this relatively small store, i came out with a few shirts and my mom bought this really cute skirt. As we were heading home, my brother called to tell us that A) the girls car had broken down B) it would cost 400 to fix C) he wanted to come home(though it took him 10 calls to tell my mom that)

And because my mom (and I to an extent) could not leave him there until the girl got the money to fix the car(2 more weeks) we were very reluctant to have him back. For a split second we had that look of "why pick him up?".

Now i sit in a smoke filled house, with my brother watching the Da Vinci Code as loud as possible so the neighbors can hear while playing a song that is grating to the ear.

Oh...Family, how i love thee.

F it i'm going to England to find myself (j/K of course) .

Some days...

I wish i was normal.

I mean, yeah i know, what is normal anyway? It should totally be a subjective thing. Normalcy should be based on how you view it, but honestly normalcy is more objective than anything else. And some days, just some days i trade being introverted, imaginative, and a loner any day just to know what Normal way, just to feel it.

I don't remember a time when anything was ever normal. There are no dinners at the table, family reunions, carpools. There was never a white picket fence, singing Christmas carols, or sleepovers at my house.

I was always kind of a loner, daydreaming more than living.

I think the only for of normalcy as i kid i had the pleasure of experiencing was when i went over to other people homes. And i have this grand revelation as to what normal looked like. Or at least the facade of normal they put on.

I know I'm interesting, i know i have a lot of potential to do good things, and i know my quirks make me who i am. But there are days when i am annoyed with myself, when i wish i could just be like everyone else, and not have anxiety, shyness, and a tinge of loneliness. Where i could just function like everyone else, and maybe then i would be happy.In that corny kind of Norman Rockwell happy.

Just some days anyway.

One week(hopefully) until Summer school. I'm looking forward to it.

Slowly Mending Fences

After Wednesday cat fight on the View (to my pleasure of course) i decided "Hey i should write Marie, so we don't have a fallout like Rosie and Elisabeth".

She sent me an email the other day after being unable to contact me via phone. She wrote:

Hey Beck,

I guess the evil organic monster destroyed you, or you've passed out from sheer exhaustion. Anyway just wanted to catch up and see what's going on...i.e do you have a nephew yet, are you ever getting a break, etc. I have officially finished the semester without tragic death, and without anything below a B :) I broke up with [my boyfriend] for being an ass, but maintain doggy visitation (I'm weird). [my sister] is moving in with me on June 1st commonly known as D day. I only need like 3 classes to graduate so I'm not taking any summer classes and have gotten a second job at the swine farm, which is not as gross as it sounds and is kind of fun....Hope to hear from you soon (gotta have somebody to bitch with)~:) Marie

How could i not respond to her after this. I admit sometimes i am horrible friend. I'm a great person to hang around, I'm funny, pretty much up for anything, and i try to keep conversations going. Sometimes in conversations i feel like a journalist, i ask questions without being overbearing...my mom says people like to talk about themselves, so the way to keep a fledgling conversation going is to ask questions about the other person. Though i rarely listen to my moms "GUIDE TO PEOPLE" advice, in this case she has been proven somewhat right.

The reason why i can sometimes be a horrible friend is because i don't really like talking on the phone. I rarely call, email, send smoke signals out to people. When i was 12, i could spend at least 2 hours on the phone with my BFF. When i was 8, i called my friend everyday. I use to jump on the kitchen counter, dial her number by heart and talk endlessly which is weird because she lived right around the corner. I use to love the phone, i use to call people, but i just don't anymore.

The only way me and Marie talk is if she calls me. I don't take initiative, i should really start. Taking initiative is a big deal, i remember my journalism teacher said it was the one thing i lacked. Of course I hated her after that. But she was right, i lack it not only in my journalistic ability(which is none) but also in my life. My lack of initiative comes from fear. Fear of...I don't know. I guess friends, taking the initiative to get closer, may lead me to be hurt by them. Creatively, fear of finishing anything, because someone might think it royally sucks. Taking an initiative to create a life with friends, family and a boyfriend, because i fear that i may not possibly be able to do so.

But i think i have to start taking initiative, put all those fears behind me, and move forward. Make efforts, and test the waters.

First initiative, writing Marie back and stop ignoring her.

HEY!!

It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Organic was crazy hard, and after spending a whole semester studying for it i was pretty wiped out. I've officially changed my major to English, shocking i know, but my professors say i have this thing called TALENT(who knew) for creative writing, so I've been working on my writing more than biology and chemistry books these days. I'm taking both summer sessions, to get caught up with the English requirements, and I still have to squeeze in my bio and chem minors. Sounds incredibly fun i know, but someones got to do it. I do have a nephew now, his name is Elijah Daniel...I hate the middle name(benjamin was so much nicer). Mom and Morgan have been going crazy with the baby pictures. He's a cute kid but seriously how much clothes does the kid need, i think at this point he has more clothes than i do and he's only like 2 weeks old. Just saying. Doggy Visitation? you are seriously like the only person who would require doggy visitation, HILARIOUS. I'm sorry [Boyfriend] was/is being an ass, and i'm also sorry about D day hopefully it won't be THAT bad. I'll be home until June 3rd or the 4th, i can't remember which. We can do something this weekend, if you are free, i don't think my mom has anymore chores for me to do, and the tiredness is being to wear off. Just call, my phone is always low on battery or I've misplaced it(i hate my phone), but I'll keep it strapped to me if i have too.

Talk to you later

Beckett

Job well done if i do say so myself, minus the lying about the cell phone thing. But whatever.

Mallrats.

I hate the mall. Absolutely, completely despise the mall. Even though i can pass for a highschooler, i hate walking into the place where everyone is dressed like an Abercrombie and Fitch model, minus model height and general hotness.

My mom has been bugging me to get summer clothes(do we see a trend, get summer clothes; decorate room). To an extent she is right, I'm not really into summer clothing. Barely there dresses, tank tops and skirts were never my thing. I like cardigans, and t-shirts, and jeans. I LOVE JEANS. But as the temp goes up, there is no way that i can walk out of the house with a sweater and jeans on unless i seriously want to pass out in the middle of a department store.

But the problem is that the stores i like are not in my incredibly small town. I dig Urban Outfitters, Forever 21, and Anthropologie . Instead of going to hot topic, i know opt for buying my band tees off of their website, since hottopic only seems to buy death metal t-shirts. Not that there is anything wrong with death metal, just that i don't really want to wear a slipknot t-shirt. Just saying.

Unfortunately the stores that i like are not in close proximity, and so instead i went searching around town for summer clothing. Old Navy hates me. The clothes literally hang on me as if i am a hanger. It's pretty sad to shop there, which is why i don't. So then we headed to the mall.

It's the first time i have been anxious in a long time. I was surrounded by grown adults,little children, and teenagers who were literally wearing the same clothes. We stopped in some store that was like a weird "This is how we think people in California dress" place, and i literally dragged around for 15 minutes. My mom was picking clothes left and right that "everyone is wearing" and shoved them in my face. Of course she doesn't understand that "everyone" is 15 year old girls and boys who are wanting so desperately to fit in, they have become all the same. Trust me, at a time in my life i was that teenager. When the new school year came around i begged my mom to take me to coolest clothes shop for shoes and shirts that we make me the "new and improved me".

But... after a while, you realize that just because you put on a shirt that from Abercrombie and Fitch doesn't mean you are instantly warped into a new person. So i stopped caring, and by senior year, you'd be lucky if i bought a new book bag. The truth is, i know it's a teenager thing, i don't even mind it, but I'm not that kid anymore, who cares about if I'm wearing the same corny plaid shorts that are "in style", or that someone takes notice that i matched my hair clip with my belt.

I like the way i dress. I have no problem with it and the sooner my mom realizes that, the sooner she will save money on a 34 dollar shirt i am never going to wear. This shirt was this "I'm going to the beach, with my boyfriend Todd and his surfer friends". I tried it on in the parking lot and my mom said my boobs looked like tennis balls, the shirt was so tight. She later returned it, and i later order a Sufjan Stevens t-shirt, and another t-shirt that said "My future is so bright i need shades". CUTE.

Anyway, i have been avoiding Marie since my birthday. Which would be going on 3 months now. I don't know what it is that makes me not answer the phone when she calls. I feel like a horrible person, i feel like a horrible friend. A part of me is jealous of Marie, she has a boyfriend, and friends, and a clear idea of what she wants to do with her life, and for the most part she can do it. She is brilliant, i mean really smart, and knows her professors, and has a car, and an apartment...and i don't have any of those things. I have one friend, a car that doesn't work, i don't even have a crush.

It wouldn't be so bad, if she didn't rub it in my face. I don't think she does it on purpose, but i can't get a word in otherwise without her talking about her boyfriend, or her boyfriend, or her boyfriend. And when she isn't talking about her boyfriend she is talking about how well everything is going for her. I don't think we have any conversations about our interest, about movies or books, or anything. We just talk about her life, and too extent i feel like i don't even exist.

So that's actually what i have been doing for 2 months, not existing in her life for a while. Screening calls, and ignoring emails. But i figure i can't go on like this forever, eventually I'll have to pick up the phone and say something. I guess in a friendship i want there to be some two way appreciation for each others life. And unfortunately i don't think that is happening with us... i don't know. Sooner or later I'll have to pick up, answer back.

Until then...back to writing. I've stocked up on writing notebooks, and a writing play list on my Ipod. Now i just need a plot, some characters, and ending and I'm good.

A Student of Living Things.

What a long week. I was pretty depressed( forgot how that felt) last week after final exams. The reason i was so upset about my math grade was because i seriously studied for that exam. I mean more than any other exam at my University.

I don't mind bombing a test if i know that i didn't put any effort into it, if I'm just hoping to slide by. But this math test i was wholly invested in, the library saw me more that week than any other week. I made note cards, and had a binder full of math problems, i studied with Mike, I studied alone, i looked up math problems on his website. By Monday i was pumped to take the math exam, i was explaining crap to Mike before the exam, i was ready. READY. Even during the test i was like "Oh MY GOD I KNOW ALL OF THIS", I was sure I at least made a 75, and with half credit from the other problems i would make at least a B-.

I checked, re-checked, re-re checked, and left the class pretty confidant that i didn't bomb. So needless to say when i got back my class grade i was a little pissed, but more sad because my best wasn't good enough. And i felt like a failure. At least for a couple of days any way.

But of course everyone was right, and even a part of me knew that grades don't dictate intelligence. I am a smart kid who unfortunately has spent too much time studying things that have no interest in me. I finished a book yesterday called "A Student of Living Things". It kind of sucked but i like the title. The girl in it was a biology student but her mother called her a "Student of Living Things". Writing is what i do, it's who i am, so I'm trying to be more focused on it and become a "Student of documented living Experiences", as soon as i realized that the depression faded away. I'm taking 3 English classes this semester and a psych class(the only thing open), I've begun looking at some grad schools for writing, an internship or two, and have started a writing portfolio(whatever the hell that is).

A content feeling has slipped in, and i have been enjoying it ever since. I thought coming home would be a little odd, i felt so changed this year that i didn't know how being home would feel. I didn't know if i would become the extremely anxious person all over again, but I've been strong. I have checked out some library books, bought some Cd's, turned the AC up, and been doing my own thing (of course with the cats at my side).

My mom has insisted that i decorate my room, so i feel comfortable when i com home. So far I've bought an end table, and a lamp. I'm going for a European theme, but no so overboard seeing that I'm heading back to school in 3 weeks for Summer Session 1.

Beside decorating i have a reading and movie list that i must complete.

BOOKS:
Little Children, Family History, Shop Girl, and Three Dollars.

Movies:
Pans Labyrinth, The Science of Sleep, Spiderman 3(not my choice), and Little Children(movie adaptation).

7 Random Facts.

...Sorry about the lack of posts, I'm getting back into the swing of things since returning home from school. A regular post tomorrow, but for now here are several random facts about me because i was tagged , sometime last week.

SEVEN RANDOM FACTS.

1. I read Perez Hilton almost religiously. I know he is bad and awful and totally celeb obsessed, which for the most part is everything i am against. But his post are hilarious, sometimes, and i can't stop reading them. I haven't put him on my sidebar simply because of shame. He is my guilty pleasure


2. I make music videos for my favorite songs. I don't literally make them, but if i hear a song and i really like it, i create a music video concept for it, via my notebook(scribbling down things) or simply as mental images. I've done this for John Mayer songs, Maroon 5 Songs, and Bjork. Recently i have visualized a video for Feist's "My Moon My Man" and every time i hear the song on my Ipod, i cant help but see it playing mentally in my head.


3. I have really small feet. Not oddly small that it's weird, but just smaller than some of the big footed people i know. They aren't really ideal when trying to buy really cute shoes because they never have my size( 5 1/2-6) , but they look cute in sandals.


4. I'm a simple picky eater. I usually order the same thing at a restaurant, and will rarely divert from that order. I only eat plain pizza, plain hamburgers, and plain hot dogs. I only like strawberry ice cream and at ice cream places i will order just the cone. My mom says at least I'm an easy person to shop for.


5. I write in books that aren't mine. I don't do it on purpose i just forget sometimes. I like finding notes that people leave in books, scribbles in the margins, names and words that don't make any sense to me. Eventually i started to do it too, reading books with a pencil in my hand just in case anything important needs to be written down. It began with underlining passages that seemed significant to eventually writing in the margins. I wonder when the library will catch on.


6. I use to watch the Gilmore Girls. WHAT? WHEN? WHY? I wouldn't be able to explain it to you. But it was a fluke accident one weekend when they had those stupid reruns on the family channel. I kind of thought it was funny and sweet and wanted desperately to be like Rory or Lorelai. My Gilmore crush soon ended though because i realized i had never in my LIFE seen, heard, been a witness to any daughter mother relationship like the one the show depicted and I became irritated with the characters(except Luke and Jess). Sometimes i get drawn in, but for the most part if i see it i will turn the channel. Though secretly I'm hoping to have that relationship with my non existent daughter.


7. I think suspenders are sexy.

Time to lounge and read a book. Marie has been calling like crazy, it's been 2 months since I've talked to her. Yes i know I'm horrible, but at least i don't have to hear about her boyfriend.

LOW.

Feeling kind of low.

Grades are coming in and this semester has been a bust.

I'm not an idiot i know this. I am certain of this. But i can't help but feel like an idiot after studying relentlessly for a math exam that didn't go as planned.( and by relentlessly i meant Friday, Saturday, and Sunday without TV or music, emersed in math). Or even(and by even i mean epsecially) after taking a Bio exam that didn't go as planned either, and thus i am feeling low. Very low. Lowest then the lowest academic low i have ever felt. And i feel like crawling under the sheets. A blow to the ego....yes. But more importantly it's a blow to what i know i am capable of doing and what i can put forth.

Why did i have to figure out what i wanted to do during my junior year of college. It could have saved me and my GPA a look of heartache.

I have already changed my summer classes from science oriented classes to more writing focused ones. I'm both looking foward to it, and incredibly scared. My mom told me to keep my head up...and after sulking and hiding under the covers, i grew tired of wallowing...So i'm trying to keep my head above water, but i'm not ready just yet.

Exhausted.

Exam week is over. I got about 5 hours of sleep last night(this morning. Who knows).

Spent all morning in Library.

Studied ass off for Bio Exam.

Ran into Short Boy's Ex-Girlfriend, my current friend, who talked to me for about 45 minutes about crazy party.

Apparently she has parent problems also (there is starting to be a pattern here).

Went back to studying for Bio Exam.

Felt confidant about bio exam.

Got to bio exam.

Didn't feel so confidant anymore. There was a lot of "What the fuck is this" running through my mind, followed by "i don't remember this shit being in my notes" thoughts, finally resulting in "Bsing here i go". The exam was so stupid. Crazy guy( guy me and Mike have taken a million classes with, who has a horrible temper problem) kept sighing and grunting during the test. I was surprisingly sitting next to the dude who i mistakenly had a crush on last semester(long story) and who has been scooping me out all year. I once caught him in Chem class staring, it was pretty weird. I believe fate brought us together today, unfortunately fate couldn't throw some answers my way.

I'm tired and exhausted and i have to clean the refrigerator that i never used because i was assigned it via my roomies. Apparently there was a meeting i was unaware of where they signed cleaning contracts(everyone in the hall has to do it). I of course was not called to this meeting, and got the crap end of the deal having to clean the hardest(because it is the dirtiest) appliance in the apartment.

Very frustrated. Very.

Coming Out...

I just came out of the closet. OMG!!!!

Okay so no I have not secretly started crushing on girls. Not that there is anything wrong with that. If it wasn't for my total attraction to boys with pretty eyes and dark hair who look like Sufjan Stevens, i would totally be gay. But unfortunately girls just do not do it for me. I like my art boys with scruffy faces, disheveled hair, and a hint of "i haven't showered in a few days" masculinity.

I came out in another sense. I came out of the WRITING closet. Whenever i watched a documentary about gay teens i was always heartbroken with there coming out stories. You hear a whole array of the good("they always kind of knew), the bad("my father stopped talking to me"), the ugly("i have basically been disowned"). I literally watched with tears in my eyes, wanting to give them all a rainbow hug.

I guess what really got to me was this whole idea of closets, be it a gay or otherwise, there are closets for everything, because closets hide secrets. And who would people be without a shit load of secrets.

I have been hiding a secret from my mother, a secret that was killing me. I was born this way, and even though i have tried to change it for other people, it's just a part of who i am, and i can't be happy without everyone knowing this part of me. I Beckett Amelia Hughes am a writer. I love it, and i think it loves me. And i don't think I'm going to be a doctor( especially after taking Ochem this semester. I'd rather not talk about it. Just know that it went badly, very badly)

So after talking on the phone with her for about a half an hour, i smoothly inserted the comment "someone mentioned that i was a good writer again" and from there i was off. I began telling her that i think this maybe something that i am good at, that this is sort of a passion and i think i can succeed at it.

At first she was sort of like "what about Med School" Shit. I was dreading that. I told her that technically people are always going to be sick, and that it wasn't like the profession of healing the sick would fade away. But if i let this fade away i would spend the rest of my life wondering "what if". What if i had taken a chance on a dream. What if i had believed in myself once in my whole life and invested in something that i am good at. I could make money, i could have fun, and i am confidant that i can do this.

And then there was silence. The longest silence of my whole entire life.

I was expecting the worst. The good, bad and/or the ugly. I felt like for her whole life she has expected me to be a doctor. To save lives, and make money after paying off a billion student loans. I felt like she was seeing her aspirations for me fade down the toilet. I was expecting the worst

But instead i got.."Sounds great".

WHAT?!!?!?!?

She doesn't care if i want to be a doctor or not, she just assumed it was something that i wanted to do, so she was behind me all the way. I said i wanted to be a doctor, so she supported me. Apparently i could be a painter, or a shoe salesman, a accountant, and/or a lawyer and she would just want me to be...HAPPY..

WHAT?!?!?!??!!?

And with that my coming out was over. We talked about my Alice story, and my English professor, and my idiot brother. She's okay with whatever makes me happy, and what makes me happy is writing.

So i think i'm going to be a writer.

Holy Shit i'm freaking out. I'm going to be a f*cking writer.

Suddenly I See.

So I'm a little late on the Kt Tunstall trail. I've known about her for a while, even posted some lyrics by her, but i just recently bought her CD, and just recently began loving "Suddenly I see" which has been in every Tv promo. Seriously, Ugly Betty, Grey's Anatomy, Las Vegas, Dateline, Csi(okay exaggerating but you get the point) Today though, it was a very fitting song.

Today was my last day of therapy. What? Who? When? Wasn't it last week? I thought my last session was last week, i was prepared for it to be my last week, until i inadvertently scheduled another session. I guess we had both grown so accustomed to making a schedule every week, that we made another one on finals week. I know the last session was going to be rough, especially after she told me she was just interning for the semester and was returning to her own school next fall.

The truth i suck at saying goodbye. I suck at it so much i can't even do it in normal conversation. I just fade out of the conversation slowly and then creep away hoping that by the time they recognize my absence i will have been long gone. My dad never says goodbye on the phone, he says goodbye's are permanent, so instead we awkwardly say "Talk to you later" "Yeah Love you" "Love you too" "Bye" "don't say Bye" "I mean see you later" "Okay..."

That goes on for like 5 minutes until i just hang up the phone.

In the last year my therapist has been my biggest support. It was as if they perfectly matched me up with someone who would get me through this thing called anxiety. At first i was hesitant to go, damn Tom Cruise and his psycho ideas. I thought perhaps i could get through it on my own, but i quickly realized i had been doing that for the last couple of years and had gotten no where.

So together we embarked on this crazy weird journey called therapy. This being her internship, and me being a very sad girl. I can't even begin to explain how incredible it has been. I have cried, she has laughed, i have cursed, she has cursed with me, and she has made me feel like i am not a big weirdo. It's weird because sometimes you need someone in the real world, to assure that you are a functioning human being.

She has remarked on my charm, which i thought i never had. My humor, which i thought i never had, and my adorableness, which i kind of knew i had but need some reassuring sometimes. We have worked through family problems, friend problems, job problems, and boy problems, and amazingly i have grown from it. I feel so different that it's scary some days. I mean i still get depressed, anxious, and scared but i have learned to not remain that way forever.

In an odd way, we became friends. She said a million times that she was learning and growing right along with me, and some how i believed her.

So today i walked in with dread, knowing that this was going to be my last session. She also appeared sad,which made it ever harder to say...goodbye. I started off talking about how me and short girl oddly became friends, my last day of work, my commitment to trying to become a writer(you heard it hear), and yadda yadda yadda. As the minutes ticked by we started talking about my success in therapy, and then the waterworks began.

She started telling me about how proud she was of me. That i made impact on her life with these sessions, that if i could see the way she saw me my anxiety would be gone. That great things awaited me, and she is more than certain that i will be a great famous writer.

At this point i started crying. I mean balling. She is holding back the tears, i am grabbing tissues left and right as we basically start talking about the impact we have had on one another. I'm saying she's great, she's saying I'm great. We're both saying we are going to miss each other, it's like a lifetime movie. She's the Whoppie Golderberg to my Susanna Kaysen(Girl Interrupted reference. Great movie. Check it out)

When my session was up we were both dreading it to be over. We remained seated, trying to move and get up, but remained glued. I kept saying "we can do this, one step and i am out the door, thank for holding my hand, but mainly thank you for letting me go and be brave." After a few moments we both got up and I had to have given her the hugest hug ever, crying on her shirt, as she cried on mine. We pulled away eventually, and she walked me to the elevator. One last hug, a see you later, and the elevator doors sealed the end of my session with Kacey. I of course had the misfortune of being in the elevator, wiping at my eyes, with a total hottie watching me, but i didn't care.

for once i wasn't ashamed of my tears, i walked proudly down the street with them, because they weren't tears of sadness, but tears of growth, and i am ever changed by her. I thanked her for getting me on the right path, because truthfully she did.

And as i am walking down the street i hear that damn song "Suddenly i see" out of nowhere. I was expecting the opening credits to roll, and was even prepared to do a Mary Tyler Moore in the middle of Bull Street. I feel liberated, i feel good, and not in the cheesy hallmark way, but in "I'm making strides way."

I'm going miss my Wednesdays, but I'm happy to have had them, they have changed my life forever.

Final Exam Week

Finals week is upon me. What a holy mess that is going to be.

My school gives us one day called "reading day" in which we are suppose to study our asses off before finals start tomorrow.

I just woke up, so i have yet to fully comprehended the idea of "studying" even though i know i must do it. Especially since round one of exam is Me Vs. OCHEM. YUCK.

I exempted from taking my hot professors English exam so I'm just hoping i made an A on the paper to make an A in the class. Other English Professor test is on Saturday (who knows why) and because he seems to be a hard grader, i have to study for that.

Then i have math Monday. Biology Tuesday and i have decided to head home on Wednesday instead of Tuesday, just to give me an extra day of freedom. My mom kind of sounded sad that i didn't want to come home readily, but I agree with Kbryna, that i seriously need to take care of me, instead of everyone around me for a change. I have my book and location already picked out to lounge around.

This has been a very weird semester. Yesterday was my last day of work and surprisingly people seemed sad. My boss had a shocked look on her face when i said it was my last day, and then she made this sudden frantic "are you coming back next semester"

ME: Probably, I'll stop by in August to tell you for sure though.
Boss: Thank GOD!!!!!

It was half relief, half sadness, and excitement. When i asked her what had suddenly come over her, she was like

Boss: It would be a pleasure for you to come back, we seriously need you here.

I couldn't help but feeling a little good about myself. For once i was a needed participate to someone, and they had taken notice, and they wanted me back.

And surprisingly though i spent most of the semester ignoring her, me and Short Boy's girlfriend, Amanda, became allies in the last week. I think she may have even become my friend, we exchanged numbers and email address. We talked about getting a new job, possibly at the mall so we can near each other, and she was generally sad that i was leaving. *Pats on Back*, I felt incredibly good yesterday, like Mary Tyler Moore.

Katherine sent me another email. I have pretty much ignored it, wanting to stay as far away from that woman as possibly. Though the way our friendship ended wasn't ideal, I'm not trying to fix the wrongs by becoming her friend again. I just can't do that. No matter how bad i miss being a good influence on her kids, there is no way in hell that i would get myself in that situation again, especially with the same person.

I guess this final week isn't only about wrapping up school, but it's collectively wrapping up everything i have learned this year. And for the most part i fee like I've done a pretty good job of it. I feel like thing are getting better, or at least I am.

This week and next week are going to be long. I'll try to post, when i can.

Wish me luck.

Packing.

A week from Tuesday i will be heading home...and I just realized that i don't want to go.

I woke up to hear my roommate packing her things, and the end of the semester became real. I'm heading home and I am absolutely dreading it.

I have slowly gotten over the Philadelphia thing, but i can't seem to shake my love of privacy here that will soon be gone. That i can wake up and go wherever i want, whenever i want without my mom and brother being there. I feel free here, i feel not locked up in a cage.

I am going to miss the freedom of waking up. The past couple of weeks just the action of waking up has been the best part of my day. I wake up to the fake tulips i have placed on my window sill, with the blinds raised so the shines on my face as i glance at the view of the trees from my window.

I'm going to miss Lifetime Saturday's, being wrapped up in my warm blanket sitting on this hard as chair wearing my trucker hat.

Mainly i am going to miss the silence. It never seemed more blissful.

I am actually anxious at the thought of returning home. My heart is racing and I'm trying to ignore the fact that i will have to leave soon. I haven't even started packing yet.

I'd much rather stay here. I don't want to go. I don't want to go.

Boy Talk.

Today i spent 15 minutes talking about Balls. Seriously.

Not Basketballs, or Baseballs. But Ball Balls. Testes. Man Balls.

When i asked to have conversations with people my own age, so i wouldn't feel like such an outcast, i don't know if talking about balls was what i had in mind.

I'm kind of a girly girl tomboy. I wear rock tees and converse shoes, but cry if i see something sad on television. I'm introspective and shy, but curse like a sailor and watch things like South Park and Ultimate Fighting. It's the one balance in my life that i am beginning to like.

I think in a past life i must have been a 15 year boy living in the 80's(yeah i know, that's not a so distant past, but i connect with that decade). Some days when i am lounging around i will think of a stupid reference to AC/DC or Transformers and have no idea where that knowledge has come from.

I have always found it easier to talk to boys, rather than girls. You get in a fight with a girl and that can last for days, you have an argument with a guy friend and 5 minutes later you are joking around about something else. And boys aren't as catty, at least i don't think they are.

Even though i can joke around with the boys, i do have days when i want to have a girl to hang with. Someone to talk about how hot Sufjan Stevens is, and to watch Extreme Makeover: Home Edition with. To go shopping and hanging out, and even to be a little catty with. But i don't have a lot of those.

Trying out this whole talking thing i made another attempt at having a conversation with my co-workers. Yesterday i did a pretty good job of it, talking with short boy's now EX-Fiance and this other kid from work, Sean. We talked for a good 20 minutes, mainly her talking about how crazy short boy is, but i was a part of the conversation, so i felt good.

Today was a continuation of that. From 3-3:30, we usually decided to take a break from this big project we are doing in the library(moving a million books to make room for more books). It's the most tedious project ever, and without a lot of people, it can get pretty crappy. Today me, Sean, and this other kid Robert, were doing this project. After a while though we got bored and decided to take a break.

Even though i felt awkward and weird at first, i made conversation and good ones at that. We talked about movies, shows, school, and the normal everyday stuff. But I hate knowing a reference to something boyish, i wish i was more demure and girly like, but I'm just not. I have the unfortunate tendency of being just one of the guys, and within moments i was laughing at stupid South Park inspired imitations. Mmmkay.

But i guess the problem with relating to boys on a social level is that they forget I'm a girl...hence the Balls conversation. Truth to be told, i have no problem talking about balls, people have them, and that's good and all, but the guy's girl isn't really the role i want, though it is the role i am use to. I'm more comfortable being the guy's girl than the girl's girl, i guess a part of stepping out of my comfort zone is not go towards those roles i am accustomed to.

Talking about South Park was pretty sweet though. But i think i can go through the rest of my life without having a conversation about how one's elbow and one's balls are two entirely different things. Don't ask. I'm glad to now have that knowledge lodged with me forever. and ever.

Must make girl friends or my life is doomed to be spent talking about balls and Spiderman 3.

Yesterday's Blues.

So yesterday was not a good day. It was pretty good up until my mom called.

Ever since my b-day i have been planning a trip to Philadelphia. From cool hotels to places i will eat, i have been all over this trip. Even more than studying for finals.

So yesterday while talking on the phone with my mother i wanted to make sure she had made reservations for the hotel we were planning to stay in. It was affordable, downtown and close to everything was wanted to see and do while we were in Philly for the weekend.

From the 5 second silence i could tell that my mother did not make the reservations for the hotel i had given her the number for 3 weeks ago. Apparently she thought it would be easy to make reservations for hotels less than two weeks before we are suppose to be in Sunny Philadelphia.

And of course, because she waited last minuted EVERYTHING is booked up.

The only hotels even remotely open are the ones so far out of town or near the airport, and i refuse to stay near the airport. The hotel(s) i picked were trendy/comfortable/downtown and affordable. I was looking forward to this trip so bad, and it was just another example of not being able to rely on my family to do the simplest of task. I wrote a blog right after the phone call venting my frustrations, but damn blogger deleted half of it. I'll post it later on today.

I was just so frustrated, so discouraged, and i hadn't felt this way in a very long time. My therapist says it's funny that i relyso heavily on my families approval when they repeatedly seem to disappointment me. I hate that my only support system is full of unreliable people, who never follow through. And yesterday was the first time in the long while i cried out of frustration, and i hate that.

So needless to say i woke up in a pretty sour mood today. Cursing anything and everything.

I think what i have learned the most from therapy is that i need a support system other than my family. When I'm sad i have no one to turn too, when I'm confused i have no one to go too, and i need that, i want that. Because when i have bad days and have no way of letting it out to comforting ear, i beat myself up about things. I wallow and drown in my own tears and sorrows and make things seem more horrible then they really are.

I seem to be the Ms. Fix-it in my house, making sure the pieces don't fall away, but whose there to help me when my house needs taking care of. Whose there to come to my aid...no one.

The more and more the day went on though, the better i felt. I made an attempt to talk and connect to people. I even talked to short boy's EX-FIANCE, short girl, and even some other people at work and during class. I need friends. i need a support system, because i need a shoulder to rest my head on when times get rough. When I'm mad at my mom, i have no one to talk to about it. I've been avoiding Marie so she doesn't drown me with her boyfriend stories, and Mike is not a person i talk to about personal things.

I feel like i have to pull away from my family being my safety net, because the net is full of holes that i am falling through.

But i tried not to let that bother me today, even though it still did. The end of the semester is too close to have this bring me down.

Anyway

I FINALLY talked to hot professor today, and my uterus did not even fall on the floor.

We didn't have class last week so we could spend the time writing the paper he assigned(My seinfeld/postmodern paper). Of course i waited last minute to write this 8 page paper, but in the end i was pretty proud of it, and even ended up with 10 pages.

So today was basically a class so he could hand us back our test and so he could get our papers. He of course left our test in his office and the whole class had to go to his office, wait in the hallway as he handed it out to us individually.

Because he doesn't want to give a final, he said that if we made a B or higher on this exam and a B or higher on the paper then we are exempt from the final. Naturally i want an A in this class, but I really don't want to take the final, so i was hoping beyond hope i would get a decent grade. As i head in he goes "hello Ms. Beckett" This is the 2nd time a teacher has called us by that name, who knows why.

I made an 87 on the test, and have a 86 average, not counting the paper. He said that we can all assume that we made an B+ because he grades the paper pretty easily but that he wont easily give a lot of A's on this paper. Hopefully I'll get an A, i asked him it was an impossibility before i left, and said nothings impossible. Why does he have to be so hot and dreamy.

Anyway. Tomorrow is my last day of therapy for the year, and I'm a little said. It was like Wednesday with Kacey for the past couple of weeks and she has been person i have really ever ranted my frustrations to (other than you guys and girls).

Being the last session and looking back on this year i feel like i am suppose to say what i have learned. But for the first time in a while it's more about what i feel i have learned. I'm not completely and utterly happy, but on my way to getting there. I'm content with my life right now, and more optimistic about the future. I want to dance and sing, and be crazy and funny and gentle and sad all at the same time.

And even when things get shitty i don't want it to bring me down. I'm so tired of being sad, because my life is so much more than that. I'm so much more than that i guess.

Procrastination.

I have an eight page paper due on Tuesday.

I'm on page 4. Barely.

You think i would be writing like the rent was due. But no.

Instead i have:

Downloaded Tripping Billies by DMB.
Danced to Tripping Billied by DMB.
Fallen asleep while "writing" the eight paged paper.
Played the Sims (Season Edition)
Said the satement "Damn he's hot" at least 5 times while watching Ultimate Fighting on Spike TV.
And watched some Seinfeld(what my paper is on)

I've have to work on this procrastination, i do only have a few days to work on it.

Damn.

Back to Tripping Billies.

Name Calling.

I mentally called a lot of people F*cktards today.

I try to keep the vulgarity down to a minimum but some days call for name calling expletives to make me feel a little better.

On Wednesday i met with my professor. Even though i knew i wouldn't totally embarrass myself in front of him i was still pretty nervous. I didn't really look over my paper, or have any concrete questions, it was just more of an attempt for me to have one on one time so he knows I'm not a complete idiot.

The meeting went well, even though i think he may be nervous around me. Someone was taking a test in his office when i showed up, so we had to sit in the hallway on this long chair. Though he is very personable in class, laughing with the students and cracking jokes, he made no attempt to do that with me. He just seemed awkward. He didn't even make any eye contact, for a while i thought he was addressing all his questions to the elevator. So i began starring at the elevator too, wondering if it was going to answer back.

It was as if we had a partition between us, or as if i was having a confession with a priest. Two hushed voices talking about Shelley's poem Hymn to Intellectual Beauty looking at the elevator. Perhaps it was because we were talking about religion, or maybe he's just a big shy dork outside of class, my mother would say it's because he wants to have my creative love child, but nonetheless it was an okay if rather awkward meeting that left me frustrated.

So today i head into class, and he was his jovial self again, which inevitably irks me because i got the awkward man on Wednesday. Surprisingly I am a very easy person to be around. At least that's what people tell me. Or what my therapist told me. She said i was a very likable person, and i;m beginning to realize that i am a likable person, when i open up to people. And technically i have been opening up to him via email and all i get is ....BLAH.

Today we got the test back that we took last Friday. I didn't really study for this test, because i am pretty good at BS-ing, and i spent the whole week studying for my other English test which was ten times harder. This exam wasn't that hard of an exam and i was expecting a pretty good grade.

As he called out names he gets to mine saying it with in whisper, I barely even heard it, that i just sat there for a moment until i was sure i had heard him correctly. I got an 88 on it, which wouldn't have bothered me so much if he didn't take off so much on my essay questions. I think the man is being hard on me, seriously. I believe he randomly marked off points that could have given me an A. I mean they perfectly addressed the question and were the only two answers i didn't completely BS and he marked points off, a lot of points. He was the first F*cktard of the day.

Then as i am working in the library shelving books minding my own business someone says "hey you". Usually i would ignore but he said it again causing me to turn around and see who was apparently addressing me. Some dude sitting near by at a table wanted to know if "this"(he says pointing to the air probably) is community service. I was very confused by this question. Was what community service, the library? Is it open to the community? Are the books Community Service?

So i say "what do you mean?"

Dude: Is this community service

Me: Is what community service?

Dude: This.

Me: I have no idea what you are talking about.

Dude: You don't know what community service is? (in a very nast tone)

HMMMM....going for the rude approach, wasn't expecting that.

Me: I KNOW what community service is, i just don't know what you are calling community service.

I then realized that he was talking about my job. There were about 5 of us on this floor pushing carts and doing what we are suppose to be doing. It can get a little loud because the carts are old and there is just no way to prevent books from falling all over the place. But our library does have four floors, giving you some place to find solace if you are looking to study. Apparently we were being a little loud on this relatively small area and to address his frustration i assume he wanted to blame it on us being community service workers. YEAH. Because as a contributor to society i make sure books are in the right place for the betterment of mankind.

Me: No it's a job that we get PAID to do. NOT COMMUNITY SERVICE. F*cktard(the last part i said in my head)

And don't even get me started on Mike. He comes into Math 5 minutes before class lets out and then calls me stupid for not paying attention when he asked me a question i didn't take notes on .

Some days name calling is just a necessity.

But in good news my dad called!!!!!

More on that later.

This picture makes me smile, i had to put it up.

Sufjan. I Love You.

The news is too depressing to watch.

TV in general is too depressing to watch. CNN. FOX NEWS. MSNBC. DATELINE. NIGHTLINE. You name it. I've been watching them all day, glued,fixated, sad. I don't even think Anderson Coopers beautiful face could make it any easier to watch.

But even after being literally overwhelmed with TV coverage i only ended up turning the TV to something like CSI or Law Order. I've reverted to watching Nickelodeon which i haven't watched in ages(for good reason too. The shows suck).

So I've turned off the TV, and started writing a love story starring me and Sufjan Stevens.

I wonder if he makes house calls.

Tomorrow i have to meet with my English professor about a paper i wrote. It was a graded rough draft which i got a B on . Normally i would take this B and parade around with it, but then i remembered that i don't want a B in his class, and A would be a lot better.

I'm kind of nervous about it. I haven't had a good track record with my male teachers and though he has shown some interest in my writing i am a little iffy about going. i get really uncomfortable round boys, even professors.

I was once told that i lacked grace. I had accidentally dropped something while watching a speech. The class was utterly quiet and all of a sudden i knocked over my notebook which goes crashing to the floor. I guess it wouldn't have been that bad, if i hadn't made a very gasp when i did it, followed by an noisy attempt to pick it up. My teacher glared at me from the end of the aisle and later when we got back to the classroom to talk about the speech he mentioned my little incident saying something on the line that "it wasn't a graceful recovery" after my shit fell all over the floor.

Years later and that remark from him still bothers me. Mainly because the tomboy in me has always wanted to be a graceful person. Audrey Hepburn of 2007. But my feet have other plans for me, my clumsiness, and "failure to recover gracefully" prevents me from being a graceful person. I am rather clumsy and awkward, who has steady feet but rather off balance at times.

I don't mind being clumsy and awkward in front of women. I'm use to it. But in front of males i feel like it's a weird and unflattering trait. I'm hoping that i won't sound like a complete and utter idiot in front of him tomorrow and that i don't accidentally drop all my papers on his floor.

I wish i could say with age i am getting more graceful, but I'm just not. And i guess apart of me feels like i can't verbally back up what i write. That the eloquent words he has come to appreciate is from a clumsy, awkward girl.

I should be studying. I should be. But I'd rather write a story.

Some days....

...I feel completely like a dumbass.

It doesn't happen often but towards the end of the semester with about a million things looking me in the face, i feel like someone has written dumbass on my forehead .

This morning i was feeling extraordinarily good. I went to bed at around midnight, woke up at 6:30, alive and fresh to take on the world. It was the first time in weeks i didn't feel tired or reluctant to go to class. Of course i hadn't studied for my English quiz but waking up a little early allowed me to quickly go over the poems he had assigned.

I wore my favorite Led Zeppelin Tee with my lovely cardigan and converse shoes (and of course jeans) and headed out to face the world as if i was wonder woman: brave and strong.

That quickly faded at around 8:10 when my Non hot English teacher tells us that we aren't having the quiz i studied hard for. By studying for this quiz i totally neglected the other two quizzes i had today, which resulted in the walk of shame as i handed in my horrible quizzes to my chem Ta and Math professor.

I don't think I'm a dumbass. I know that i am smart, i mean clearly i am a smart girl. I like feeling smart which is why i was once/kinda/sometimes was drawn to Biology. It's suppose to be the smart thing, you are top shit if you can explain G-protein linked receptors. Or some crap like that. But the more and more i sit in these classes daydreaming about who knows what, the more and more i begin to question how smart(or unsmart) i am in some things. And that sucks.

It's a downer. After the math quiz Mike thought it necessary to tell me how many things i got wrong on the quiz. Our math quizzes aren't graded(thank god) but it's out of pure ego that you don't want to do bad on them. So he went on an on about the quiz, what i got wrong what he got right, and i began to feel even more like a dumbass. Then my chem lab had a quiz which i was totally unprepared for because i didn't think it was a big deal. That was until i walked into the room where everyone was studying diligently the IR graphs(don't ask i couldn't explain it to you.)

Mike talks about high school a lot , so much that i swear he would return in a heartbeat if it didn't seem so dorky and weird. I hated high school and the only thing i miss about it was that i didn't feel like a dumbass in high school. I was known as the smart quiet girl, and the only requirements were that i was kind of smart, quiet and a girl. But in college that just doesn't do it, because i can still be the smart quiet girl and fail a quiz and/or test miserably.

But i don't have time to wallow i have a biology exam tomorrow on...G-PROTEIN LINKED RECEPTORS. Go figure.

F*cking Mondays.

So it Goes..

Kurt Vonnegut died. What the F*ck. I got the name of my blog from his book Slaughterhouse-Five.

I was suppose to read slaughterhouse-five in high school but i didn't feel like it and instead read The Bell Jar. The thing with being in AP classes is that you don't really DO anything. For the most part i assume the teachers think you are pretty smart already so what's the point of going over things we already knew. My teacher taught us things for the most part but sometimes she let us do whatever we wanted to do, read whatever we wanted to read, and take much needed lunch breaks.

Towards the end of the semester we had about 5 more books to read from a list she had come up with at the beginning of the semester. Instead of having us all read the same 5 books which would take forever, she allowed the class to split up and read whatever English worthy book we wanted too. Splitting off into groups we separated the books we wanted to read, each group would have to then talk about the book in class, just to summarize it.

Most of the class choose to read Kurt Vonnegut because apparently reading Kurt Vonnegut in high school makes you hot shit or something. But being a dissenter i didn't want to read what every one else was reading and instead choose to read the Bell Jar, which inevitably changed my life.

But after they presented the Vonnegut book to the class i kind of wanted to read it. That was when i was 17. 2 years later during the summer my grandmother died i came across his book randomly at a vintage book store. The cover was torn, the pages worn out, and his named scrawled along the bottom. I spent the rest of the day reading the book, it was weird and funny and sad all at the same time. I usually don't like books that don't follow a proper time line, but i dug Slaughterhouse five, there was something poignant in it's craziness, and plus the damn book had pictures, not a lot but a couple.

One of the pictures was of a gravestone and on the gravestone were the words "Everything was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt". Perhaps it was because i was dealing with my first huge death, maybe it was guilt of a life not quite fulfilling, but something rang with the phrase. That it's sort of bullshit but the truth, sort of sad but honest, there was something lovely in it's facade, something not said until it's too late.

Hence the name of my blog.

So I'm very sad that Kurt died. I have him to thank or blame for all this expression of my emotions.

Anyway.

Today i had my English exam. This is the English class with the incredibly hot teacher but pretty hard material. I must admit that the reason i didn't drop this class was because well...he's really hot. He warned us it was going to be hard, asked us to drop if we weren't committed to actually learning and thinking through theory/history/philosophy but despite his warnings i stayed.

The first couple of weeks i hated it. I hated him. He seemed arrogant, he kept talking about how sucky English was,and him and his damn hotness was driving me insane. Eventually though i began to like him, my school girl crush faded away, and it was replaced by total respect. It's weird i can't have a crush on someone i look up to. If i admire you as a human being, and consider you to be a sort of mentor than i suddenly stop having a crush on you . I think growing up where i didn't really have a lot of people to look up to, i kept the relationship of mentor very strict.

So after a couple of weeks, my crush faded, and i literally began to admire him like an older smarter brother. I mean he's smart, and so sure of himself but not in cocky way. He makes you think about things, instead of assuming them, and he pushes us. So after a while i began to see him in another light, in one that i respected highly, which i rarely do.

I made on a B on the first test which was good because half of the class passed and the other half failed miserably. There were no C's. Just 15 A and B's and 15 D's and F's. So i was happy with my place in the A/B crowd. But for some reason i was absolutely nervous about this test. I mean more than i was for my math or chemistry exam. I studied for this thing so hard, writing and re-writing, having dreams of Theorists like Said and Jameson. I was in a world of simulacra and Queer Theory.

For the past two days i have been emerged in a world of theory lost in signifers and the signified, and even though i was confidant that i knew the material...I was hella nervous. My stomach hurt, my head hurt, my palms were sweating, and i was nervous. I am NEVER nervous about an exam....NEVER(except for Chem). And i realized it was because i was afraid of disappointing him. Even though i don't talk in class, or email him, or whatever...i was personally afraid of disappointing someone i admire. Of not doing as good as i know he believes we can do.

I don't think I've ever had that feeling towards Biology before. INTERESTING REVELATION.

So after all that studying, near heart attack, nervousness, and complete urge to vomit i was so worried about the exam... i think i did okay.

and as i went up to hand him my paper Hot Professor looked me dead in the eyes, laughed and said "Piece of Cake right?"

Yeah. Right. If he only knew.

Sniffles...

I'm sick.

Damn.

I woke up alright, a tab bit tired but for the most part feeling pretty optimistic about the day.

As soon as i get outside to the this very cold day, i began to feel like i was struck by a bus.

Headache, stuffy nose, and muscles began to hurt that i didn't even know existed. To me that's the worst part of getting sick is that all of a sudden muscles you never knew you had begin to ache. I was literally working today and went "is that a muscle in my lower back aching?, Where the hell did that come from"

I hate being sick. I mean i can deal with having allergies and walking about with a tissue all day but feeling physically drained because my head, nose, and apparently back are hurting all at once takes it toll. It does give me an excuse to complain to Mike and have him feel all sympathetic. Of course by sympathetic i mean he tries extra hard not to be an ass.

I guess the part of childhood i miss the most is that when you are sick you can lay around, have your parents make you soup and of course miss school...which was my favorite. But now since I'm on my own all i get to do is kind of lay around, buy soup and eat it in class, and listen to my teacher go on and on for what seems like hours about Math.

Bummer.

On Wednesday i sign up for classes and despite having no idea what i am going to take in the fall I'm pretty excited that i am going to be a Senior. Everyone is right, before you know it college is over and you are inserted into the "kind of" real world.

My "kind of" real world will hopefully be in Philadelphia. Part of the reason i am heading to Philly in May is because it is where i really want to live after graduation. After my first not so successful college stay in Philadelphia i have opted to give it another try in this city of Brotherly Love. Even though i was only there for a few days i think they may be right in calling it the city of Brotherly Love. I kind of felt at ease there, but i was just not use to being so far away from home, and i must admit i was a little scared, which made coming home due to mix up of financial aid was an easy choice. But that choice has been one i have regretted for the last three years.

Slowly i am letting my regrets fade away. I'm not into asking "what if" so much anymore. They can drag you down and drive you crazy. I am becoming content with who i am rather than wondering who i would have been if i hadn't moved so many years ago. But a persistent regret is my whole Philadelphia fiasco, and wanting desperately to return to try things out again.

So even though me and my mom will be hitting up Penn's Landing/Museums/The Market i really wanted another trip to show that i am ready to go back. That three years later i am not the scared 18 year but the brave kind of scared 21 year old.

Philadelphia has kind of become my gold at the end of the rainbow and I try to remember that so i have a complete sense of where i am going and how to get there. I love Philadelphia i just hope it loves me back.

Must study and get some soup for this bloody cold.

Oh...and this is totally unrelated but NBC cancelled my guilty pleasure "The Black Donnelley's" I can't even begin to explain how heart broken i am that i won't be able to see Jonathan Tuckers beautiful face every Monday.

Sell Yer Boat

From 2 hours away my mom manages to still surprise me. After the horrible conversation yesterday i was opting to wallow in my room and watch the second Marathon of Flavor of Love (sue me. It's a funny show) today.

I have two test to study for (both English) but other than that i am pretty much relaxing.

I get a phone call 30 minutes ago from my mother who wished me a Happy Easter. I mumbled something mid sleep, probably on the lines of "Happy Easter to you too". She then says "Go across the street and pick up your lunch."

????

After being completely confused I'm like "Why would i do that for"

Apparently she got the idea that if she couldn't be there with me on Easter she could at least treat me to an Easter Dinner via California Dreams/Take out.

30 minutes later and here i sit with my Chicken Parmesan and Linguine dinner to the thanks of my mother. I also met a very hot bartender in the process.

I guess i can't be so mad when i have my favorite dinner in the whole entire world sitting in front of me.

I really am spoiled by my mother. But whatever.

I have been listening to Sell Yer Boat by Cara Beth a lot this week. It has been a fitting song for the mood i am currently trying to emerge from.

The truth is this week has partially been crappy because for a while i haven't been use to having crappy days.

For the most part i have sailing along my comfortable ocean of a life for the past weeks. No deadly sharks in the water,no stormy weather, no sea sickness and the view has been pleasant for most part.

But having okay days you are blind to see when the pieces of your comfortable shell(or boat) begin to break off. Like all the small damages it had encountered through the weeks is beginning to take it's toll and before you are able to collect the tools to patch up the hole that is sinking your boat, water begins to seep in and the first thing you do is scramble.

I guess i have begun to scramble to stay afloat this past week, and I'm just not use to it. I had not prepared for that damage, for that break in my comfortable trip, and some how i am trying not to go down with my boat.

But i am beginning to realize and remember that bad days are just as prevalent as the good ones, and the real damage of my boat( comfort level) is that i didn't take in account that it is suppose to get nicks and scraps.

I always get antsy around the end of the semester. Spring semester seems to fly by and before you know it final exams will be coming. I feel like i have a million things to do and not any time to do it in. I thrive off of procrastination until i realize how much i have procrastinated. So after finishing my delicious dinner, i must regroup and begin to patch up the holes that are sinking my boat. I can't abandon ship now seeing how far i have come.

In other totally unrelated news Katherine sent me another email. I don't have good email etiquette. I mean she wrote me, i wrote her and then she wrote me again. I believe three is the magic number, that i don't really have to respond to her anymore. I feel like if i respond again i am possibly setting myself up to be in her life again, which is a big no no.

She said my legacy has lived on in her household, which makes me feel both good and bad. Good because it proves i am one funny broad which people respond too and remember and Bad because I'm not there to at least keep her kids sane.

I like being a funny broad though.

Time to re-group.

Family Ties

My mom doesn't listen to me.

It's pretty annoying.

There is a tumor running through her house and his name is Morgan.

My brother is clearly an idiot, to the nth degree. He's lazy, self centered, arrogant, and not moving in any directions. The whole time i was home for break he laid around the house and did absolutely nothing. It was like watching someone decay right before your eyes. He would wake up, run downstairs, lay on the couch, and watch TV ALL DAY. Of course he could then complain that he had nothing to do. We live too far out of town, the car doesn't work, he doesn't have a job, yadda yadda yadda.

After feeling a little empathetic because my brother has a way of being evil yet making you feel slightly sorry for him , i then remember that the reason we live so far out of town is because he got us kicked out our last place. The reason he can't drive the car is because he's gotten to many tickets which finally caught up with him. He doesn't have a job because 1) he doesn't look for one 2) he can't keep a job.

I am in the right mind frame to counterattack the bundle of excuses, lies, and complete and utter bullshit that my brother throws at us. I am immune to him...the moment i start feeling sorry is the moment i also begin to realize this is my brothers plan, to make me feel sorry so he can end up disappointing me in the end. Supposedly it's suppose to soften the blow. From past experience it doesn't.

My mom on the other hand completely falls for his crap. I am not a mother, so i don't readily understand her total ambivalence to my brother being an idiot. To an extent she sees it, she will call me 8 o'clock in the morning complaining about something else my brother has done to upset her. Like last weekend, while i was studying for the test i bombed she spent 30 minutes yelling about my brother being rude. I didn't even say anything the whole time she was talking, because i had heard it so many times before. Being away from home allows me not to be in the middle of their arguments, so getting a call on a peaceful morning, i felt like i was in high school again.

So today was another episode of "WHAT MORGAN IS DOING WRONG TODAY". Most days i can just ignore what she says and laugh at something on youtube while inserting "yeah, that sucks, WHAT?" into the conversation. But other times i feel like saying something, like critiquing their whole situation and putting another spin on things. I do this for her benefit and mainly so i don't have to listen to this crap every Saturday. I like my Saturdays, they are pleasant, and after a crappy week of failed tests, incompetent teachers, and working with lazy students in the library, i like to relax on my weekends, play the Sims, study, and watch a marathon of Flavor of Love.

So i said something. Perhaps i shouldn't have but i felt i had too. To an extent my mother allows my brother to be a lazy asshole. For someone who pays all the bills, gets him out of jams, and has a permanent key to the house, there is no reason for my brother to be in the house. At any moment she can kick him and his stuff out. I mean nothing is stopping her, nothing would stop me. I am not a fan of tough love, but in this case, it's the only way. She's spent her whole like babying that he is throwing it in her face whenever he can. I'm sorry but he's going to be 23 in may and he still hasn't done anything with his life, and the way things are going, at 24-25-26 he still isn't going to be doing anything, as long as she keeps supporting his...lifestyle of being a lazy son.

I was expecting her to say something. I mean i was seriously sounding like Dr. Phil, except with hair and not husky. But she didn't say anything she did the "yeah, what?, your right, are you watching this home makeover show?" At this point i became a little frustrated and figured out that this whole conversation was over. I'm so mad and i don't even know why. I feel like i am trying to help out, but she just doesn't care. Like what i have to say isn't important, and to an extent i want to say "if you are going to continue supporting him being an asshole, than I'm going to stop listening to you talk badly about him. As much as you are supporting his inactivity, I'm supporting yours."

But instead i said goodbye, and sit pissed in front of my computer.

I did this thing in therapy on wednesday where we drew out my family tree. It wasn't a normal tree though based soley on how many uncles and cousins i have. Instead it was a family tree outling relationships with thing this structured thing called family. And other than the reoccuring theme of substance abuse, there is this idea that i am the mediator between certain members of my family. I am like anchor, holding down the fort, making sure the pieces don't fracture. I make my mom and brother don't completely kill each other, I make sure my brother doesn't completely ignore my father.

I of course i didn't realize this role until it was drawn out in front of me. The lines darting from very important people in my life and me bearing the weight of trying to hold this connections all together. But i don't want to be an anchor anymore, because i literally drowning by everyone's life around me. I can barely breathe because of the sheer weight of such responsibility. How i am ever suppose to find my place, when i am stuck making everyone doesn't fly off the handle without me there to keep them grounded.

And perhaps i am pissed because i realize my role as the anchor making sure everyone around me is safe and sound has held me back. It has stunted me, and a part of me realizes that i can't be that anchor anymore. Not if i want a life.

Bad Friday.

What a long week.

Perhaps it is because i watched Ultimate Fighting this weekend, but i have been in a weird funky mood. Mostly frustrated and tired.

I bombed a test i actually studied for.
Bombed a test that i was anticipating bombing.
I am not getting paid enough or at all by the library.
I have to stay in crappy dorm for summer school.
Attempted to find an apartment instead of staying in crappy dorm, but I didn't take in account all the extra money that goes into getting an apartment.

This week has been sucky all around, and i don't even feel like attempting to dig myself out of this hole. Because right now i am totally content with wallowing, resting in the fetal position and wishing this whole week away.

But on the bright side i am going to Philadelphia in May

Red Bull

...Does not give me wings.

I feel like everyone is college has some hidden secret to staying up late for cram sessions.

I mean i hear people all the time talk about the pills, drinks, and torture methods they use to stay up late when they have to study for stuff.

This week is all about the studying and the paper that i have to finish for class tomorrow, and i figure i should try one of these staying up remedies to get work done.

But i don't do well with pills...torturing myself if a big no no...so i thought i "Hey RED BULL. It will give me WINGS" At least that's what the commercial says.

Yet i don't feel anymore energized, my head hurts and I'm drowsy.

WHAT THE HELL!

I now pronounce you

My evil cousin got married this weekend, and needless to say it was not the wedding of her dreams.

I was not the girl in my third grade class who had my dream wedding picked out. It's weird when i watch these shows like Bridezilla and the girl says "i have been planning this wedding my whole life." Perhaps it just wasn't one of those things on my list to accomplish by age 30. I think even then i was planning romantic getaways with whoever i was crushing on at the moment.

I remember a particular conversation when i was young with a bunch of girls and having the "dream wedding" conversation going on. One girl wanted to be married on the beach, another girl wanted to be married on a boat, dressed in matching sailor theme clothes, another girl wanted a traditional church wedding.

I think i said i wanted to be married in a castle, not because i thought this question over and over again, but just castles were cool.

I still don't think about weddings much, i mean i think I'd like the whole marriage aspect rather than one day where i get to dress up and watch my family act like fools. I don't really care if it's a small, large, castle theme or beachy retreat sort of thing. I just would care that everyone enjoys themselves, and that my uncle stays far away from the open bar as possible.

My cousin has been dating this guy since high school, she is the daughter of my semi-rich uncle and his wholly crazy wife. They got separated about a year ago, and he has been seeing a nice lady who I've met on some occasions.

My cousin and her equally evil sister do not like the idea of their father dating a new woman, and his soon to be ex wife is playing the crazy game. She is making claims that my uncles' new girlfriend is calling her house and threatening her. Why? No one knows. We all know she is making it up for attention, but like most things I like to watch a Jerry springer induced drama to go down.

Anyway. My cousin has been engaged for about a year, and a couple of months ago at a wedding party her crazy mother was throwing for her she admitted to her father that she did not want to get married. My uncle says she was crying hysterically and that she didn't even like this dude, but was fearful of what her mother would say because...well her mother is crazy.

My uncle of course said if she didn't want to get married than she shouldn't. But i guess straight up fear and domination won and this weekend was her "Special" day. We, surprisingly, were invited to go. But my mother not liking either one of the hellions decided against going.

I would have liked to see the train wreck of the wedding.

From what my detective grandmother relayed to me and my mom this weekend: She got married in some church wearing a very inexpensive wedding gown that reportedly was not picked out of love. The service went okay, but only some people were invited to the reception(more on this later) . At the reception, everyone soon realized that her new husband is kind of an idiot and has freakishly large ears. My grandmother than opted to get drinks because a family fight started and she was ready to drown her disgust in the nearest bottle she could find.

If you knew my evil cousin you would say she deserves this mess of a wedding.

Apparently because they were too cheap to invite everyone to the reception they invited a few people while the rest of the guests had to go home after the "I DO'S". Now i don't know much about weddings, but isn't it proper to have a reception for all of your guest? I mean people have shown up to your wedding to wish you much love and happiness(well in my case semi-happiness for evil cousin) for your new marriage. And yet only a select few were invited to go, and from what i hear they could have just went to the Olive Garden and called it day.

After laughing at the absurdity of my cousin, her wedding and her new marriage to the big eared guy...I realized that maybe wedding days are important. I mean 1) you want to share your commitment with your guy or girl with family and friends and 2) it's a celebration and everyone should be apart of it. It's a joining of family, friends and that love crap.

And so maybe i have no idea where/when or with whom i will have a wedding with. But i don't want it to suck, or to be sulking in some corner watching my big eared husband attempt to do the electric slide.

EWWW