First.

I'm getting so sick of first days.

The first day of class/work/club meeting/moving in/meeting new roommates. I don't think i can take it anymore. You'd think after 21 years of first days, i would be use to it by now. From Kindergarten to High School, from my first time behind a wheel to my first crush...I am simply over Firsts.

Though i have been through this a million times i was still pretty nervous about my first day of summer session 2. I am taking 2 English classes, and that amount of reading would make anyone weary of the course load.

I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference between the two classes because they ran literally the same way for 2 hours and 15 minutes. It was like Deja Vu

1. Quirky artsy teacher

2. Both claim they don't like to talk a lot and want class participation and then spent the next 90 minutes talking to no end.

3. Both had weird laughs

4. about 20 students in each class

5. We both watched videos that i nearly fell asleep too.

No stunningly attractive guys, and the girls all seem to be a part of a sorority. Other than that the classes don't seem that bad. We of course had to do the stupid "let's introduce ourselves game" and both of my professors remarked on how weird it was for me to be a English major/ Biology minor.

One said i was a Alpha Male/Feminine hybrid and the other said i was covering two very broad spectrum's , but that she admired my gusto(????).

Even though i am fully committed to this writing thing, i realize that i love a balance. I need the harsh to compliment the soft, the scientific to balance the art, the love to go against the much well hated. I simply cannot function without a balance of the two. A part of me is grateful that i have a biology background. Being under the competitive and rigid control of the biology department has carried over quite nicely to English. There is simply not much that can shake me when I've had the displeasure of taking A Math, Chemistry, Biology, and Psychology class all in one semester.

So even though i am an English major, you can catch me reading my Campbell and Reece Biology book just for a different perspective and approach to things.

After English i headed to my American Lit Professor(the class i took summer session 1) to pick up my Paper. I spent at least an hour in there talking to her about medicine and English. It was pretty cool, I've never really talked to a professor outside of class. To me there is like this barrier that i haven't yet grasp with the student teacher relationship. Sometimes i feel like i am in middle school terrified of the teacher who seems so much wiser and smarter than all of us. Plus my experience with teachers from High School have all been sketchy( 2 creepy math teachers and my speech teacher), so i have pretty much been hesitant at forming a close relationship with my professor.

In college though it seems almost crucial to make some sort of impression, or you risk not gaining the respect from the professor. So after she handed me my paper and went over it with me, we just talked about everything. She even recommended some programs for me to look at for MFA. Columbia, NYU, and other way to prestigious programs for me to attempt to get into.

But she said she would read my short story when i finally finished it. I smell a sweet recommendation in the works.

Time to eat and study.

Roommate Quirk: She leaves all the lights on. I think she maybe afraid of the dark. Right now it is like a game of "Lights on, Lights off". I woke up this morning to find the bathroom/hallway/kitchen/living room lights on. And from the crack in her door the lights were on in her room too.

So far i have attempted to shut the lights off every time i leave my room, but to no avail i return with the lights turned back on. Listen I'm no Eco Warrior or anything, but there is something wrong with the lights being on a 2 in the afternoon.

Until she tells me that she has a terrifying fear of the bogeyman which causes her to leave the lights on, i am going to continue shutting them off.

Al Gore would not be happy.

The Short End Of It.

I got an A in English. YEAH!!!


I was pretty nervous about the final exam. Because i wanted to go home early(not knowing that i would be bored out of my mind) i decided to take the exam three days earlier. I must admit i didn't study that much, and by Tuesday morning(the day of the exam) i was frantically looking at my notes during class to make sure i had everything remembered.

But of course while taking the test, i was completely confused about what i was suppose to write about. This was a written exam, she gave us a passage from one of the dozen stories we read during the semester and then we had to write the significance of it. There were some answers i completely knew, while there were others that i completely bulled.

But i must have done okay on the exam or my final paper, because a very nice and much deserved A is on my Transcript.

Tomorrow summer session 2 starts, and i am not looking forward to my 8 o'clock class simply because it is too early in the morning.

Summer session has pretty much prevented me from starting my 20 page short story that i have to submit in January for the writing school in NYC. I'm a little stressed out about this. I feel like it's hgh school all over again, except instead of studying for the SAT, i am studying for the GRE and attempting to write this story.

My mom and I have been talking about this writing school like i have already been accepted. She wants to know about where i will stay(dorm or off-housing), is it in a safe neighborhood, and my transportation plans. Even i have been talking about it somewhat as if this is the school i will be attending next fall. But in all honesty unless i get this story down, NYC may not be in my future.

I have no idea how to write a short story. I like short stories, I have a couple of books laying around full of short stories, but for the life of me i have no idea how to construct one. It's not even that i have a case of writer's block, it's more like that case of "how the hell do i condense this idea into 20-30 pages?", "am i going for drama, thriller, coming of age?", "yadda yadda yadda"

That is my brain right about now. The short story class i was planning on taking this summer would have helped me out a lot, but after checking how many people would be in the class (3 including me) i dropped and am now taking some other English class.

I'm trying not to worry to much about my short story dilemma and for now just bask in the glory of my A.

In other news, i have 2 new set of roommates for summer session 2. Only one has shown up, and we haven't said two words to one another. I made an attempt this morning, but she closed the door in my face. ??? I can hear her through these paper thin walls, and by the likes of her and her friends conversation I'll take door in face any day over having to talk to her

Conversation from yesterday:

Roomie[high pitched voice]: OMG how was China
Roomie's Friend[higher pitched voice]: It.........was........AMAZING.
Roomie: Really?
Friend: I like.....met.....CAMERON DIAZ.
Roomie: Nah Ugh
Friend: Yah Huh. And she wasn't tall at all, she was like your height
Roomie: THANK GOD, that makes me feel so much better about myself.
Friend: I just waved but i think she is like the nicest person ever
Roomie: did you take a picture with her
Friend(perhaps my favorite line from the night): I could have but i didn't want to be that person.
Roomie: Yeah your right.

Time to read before calling it an early night. 8 o'clock is going to be rough.

Adrift and at Peace

I am finally back in my dorm after spending 4 days at home. It was pretty hard being home because the more and more i spend time in [College Town] the harder it is to leave it.

I mean i still hate my school. I Have only 1 friend to my name. And am looking so forward to graduation i can barely sleep at night...but i like being on my own. I feel productive here, studying, writing, reading...i feel like i am working towards something instead of resting in limbo.

The only thing we did for the 4th was see Transformers (AMAZING, and now i have to marry Shia LaBeouf. Seriously. Dialogue was kind of cheesy, story line didn't really make sense. But it's TRANSFORMERS what do you expect), and then pretty much after that i watched my brother lounge around the house, and listened to my mother talk about this new diet she is going to start on Friday.

My mom and brother always tease me about being shy. That i don't go out and do things, that my fear of big crowds can be overcome easily. But as i lounge around at home for 4 days, almost crying from boredom i realized that too are lacking in the social interaction department.

There is this uneasy dependence that they find in staying in the house. The house is safe, the house is home... yadda yadda yadda. I mean for the last 21 years i feel like i have been taught that everything outside the house is something to be weary of.

But lately i have been having great anxiety over my future. I feel like i will be alone for the rest of my life unless something changes. I don't even mean in the boyfriend kind of way, i just mean in general...without friends and connections, and without general activities to do with people.

I go to sleep at night with this fear on my mind. The fear being that i will graduate, possibly get into the New School, and be unable to make any connections with people, like i have done here. That i will just have to settle for mediocre friendships because i don't know how to not feel anxious around people.

I'm so sick of wanting someone to be my friend. Of daydreaming of Art Boys and Music Boys. Of being the wantee and not the wanted. I want so badly to be wanted for once. To be accepted and allowed into this thing called a friendship. And spending the last couple of days in our house, away from any contact except Daytime TV, i just finally grew tired of being enclosed.

Sometimes i feel like the boy in the bubble, spending my time looking out at the people and world that i can't grasp. I use to wonder why the boy in the bubble finally decided to risk his life to just be free for a day...but i realize now. That bubble was a f*cking prison, and you'd risk anything to taste freedom, even if for a day.

So I'm glad to be back, still a tad bit anxious because i really want things to get better here. I realized that this is my last year in college. By the end of the summer i will be a Senior and with the way my grades are going for this semester, i will have a pretty solid GPA by Fall. But i don't want to leave my undergraduate life with bad memories of broken friendships, crushes, Waldo, and the whole roommate fiasco.

I have one year left to prove to myself that i can enjoy this college life. One year, before i am thrust into "real world". We'll see what happens.

Transformers

FLIPPING AMAZING!!!!

HAPPY 4th of JULY.

Crazy Woman

Some how i feel like i will be able to finish reading The Bluest Eye by tomorrow and then take both of my final exams on Tuesday before going home on Wednesday.

I'm out of my mind and absolutely crazy for taking on this work load. It is already 6 o'clock and and i have about 100 pages to read in The Bluest Eye and all of Cuban, Argentina, and Chilean history to get down. Along with about 20 authors and stories that i have to know the significance of for English.

A little stressed out i must say.

Back to studying

In other unrelated news...The Princess Diana Concert was flipping amazing. I watched the whole thing yesterday. P. Diddy was amazing, along with Nelly Furtado. Elton John is still rocking, and Prince William dances kind of funny.

Not that I plan on dying anytime soon, but if i could have a concert like that in remembrance of me...that would kind of be sweet. Just saying.

About A Bird

So for my English class we have to write two papers. The paper grade makes up 50% of our grade, so making a good grade on it is crucial if i want an A in this class. The first paper topic was easy for me to write about...give me a scary movie and a scary book to write about and you can almost guarantee I'll work hard on it.


Hard work paid off and I got a 96 on the paper, the highest in the class(which is huge because grammar and MLA format are not my thing). After that grade i was like "bring on the next paper"...but...yeah i might have gotten a little over my head. The next paper turned out to be more analytical than creative, and when i turned in my rough draft, i knew my paper sucked more than the suckiest suck in the whole world. NO LIE.

I picked a hard concept to write about (freedom) and tried endlessly to wrap my head around the subject which means so many things, to so many different people. So needless to say when i got my rough draft back, my teacher expressed concern about the paper. But i didn't need her to tell me that, i spent all Sunday(after spending the weekend at home) writing that crap filled paper, and when i was done with it at midnight, i scorned it with disgust. But i was tired, so i thought "what the hell I'm going to bed, horrible or not"


After she expressed concern with my paper, i went to her office to talk about what i should do. "How i should approach my paper, can i really talk about freedom? maybe it's too abstract? That's a nice picture in the corner. Any suggestions?"

45 minutes later and she had convinced me to write a paper about birds. Go Figure
Birds have shown up a lot in the short stories we have read, and she wants me to write about their significance. When i showed hesitancy at writing about birds, she kept going on about it so much that by the end of the 45 minutes all i could think about were birds.


2 days later and i actually like the paper. Go figure. I have to turn it in Monday, and then on Tuesday i have my final exam for both English and History.

Summer Session 1 is almost over, and i feel like i have accomplished something. My English teacher may like me enough to write a recommendation( she even gave me a book to keep which will help me with my writing) and Latin American History is awesome, I've even talked in my English class from time to time. These may seem like small feats, but it is one giant leap in my anxiety filled life.


Unfortunately I have made another nemesis in a person who probably does not deserve it.

My new nemesis is in my English class. She has some exotic name(though she is probably from some small town in Ohio), is really tall, and is the only other writing major in the class. If this doesn't call for rivalry than...well i don't know what does.

I must talk about my jealousy in therapy in the fall, but until then i will revel in despising this girl. I am not the only one who does not take a liking to her. The first day of class she showed up, and then for the next 3 days she was MIA. Now in a class that only last a month, missing three days is horrible. The 9 of us left got accustomed to our small group and when she made a surprise entrance a week later we felt like an intruder had entered.

Not only did she show up and disrupt the group, but she turned out to be this eloquent(sometimes pompous) English chic. She knows a lot about books, she is apparently a writing major, and did i mention she was tall, like model tall. My competitive bone set in when she mentioned she was a writing major, and i instantly thought "Sh*T I have to compete with Angelina Jolie over here when i apply to an MFA program...GREAT"

When i do speak up in class, she always makes a point of correcting my statement. It's pretty annoying. I imagine that we will be in a class next year, and because i am beginning to see that competition sometimes creates inspiration...I'm up for the challenge.

Time to study. This week was crazy and stressful and i imagine next week will be too. Two test, a book to read, Fourth of July, and then Summer Session 2.

I feel tired already and the week hasn't even started yet.

The White Heron

Writing a paper about birds is harder than i thought. It's going to be a long brutal night and i don't even have any coffee to keep me awake.

Damn.

Better Luck Today...

I woke up in a bad mood today, listening to "To Be Alone with You", and making up some excuse to myself why i shouldn't go to class today. I don't deal with embarrassment well, and i felt utterly defeated after yesterday.

Of course, logically i knew it wasn't a big deal. Being drilled about poetry, pausing for 5 minutes struggling for an answer(which in my mind is like an hour) and then shrugging and going "I have no idea" several times... is of course no big deal...Logically. Emotionally it was like "WTF was that, God i am so embarrassed, where is a pillow, i can't possible go back tomorrow after i made an idiot of myself. ATTICA!!! (for some reason Al Pacino always comes out at those moments)..."

I thought sleeping it off would help, but it didn't. I cursed at the clock this morning, began doing the "Wow I'm not feeling so well" thing and finally downloaded a pity song to put on my "Sad day" playlist before heading to class.

But then i remembered something from therapy...

While i was in therapy my therapist gave me a Wonder Woman address book. It's very small/bright red/ and has a million images of wonder woman. It's suppose to represent me, when i am strong and brave and fearless. I'm not a person who wears her heart on her sleeve, i keep it in a locked safe place where no one can see it. The problem with keeping my heart shielded is that i am keeping myself hidden from others. I am not letting anyone in to the wonder of a person i know i am.

So she made me walk around with this thing every where. To let people see my "heart", so i would learn not to be ashamed of it. That it was cool, and nice, and funny, and that i shouldn't keep it hidden where no one could get to it. It's suppose to symbolize me putting myself out there, because that is the beauty and experience of life.

When i found out that she wouldn't be my therapist in the fall, the wonder woman book became more of a strength, i keep it with me to remind myself that when and if i get scared, i shouldn't be. I am strong, and brave, and fearless not only because someone believes in me but because i believe in me.

So after a short anxiety freak out, i grabbed my Wonder Woman book and headed to class.

Thank god for Wonder Woman because today was way better. WAY BETTER. I talked and was interesting, and i wasn't scared(well not that much), it made up for yesterday's disaster and i felt a whole lot better after class.

I kind of need to do good in this class for a sweet recommendation from my professor. Joining the English game a little late, i feel a little pressure to make some sort of impression on my current and future professors, including this one.

I guess yesterday was kind of a realization that anxiety is holding something back from me, i can't even talk(or a least BS a semi answer) without this overwhelming fear of embarrassment. I need at least three recommendations for writing school, and i can count 1...tentatively. I feel like my inability to talk is simply the only thing holding me back from having three strong recommendations to my name, along with a lot of other things. So i guess it wasn't only about my frustration with Emily Dickinson(though i still blame her) it was more my frustration with myself.

I'm working on it. Slowly, but I'm working on it.

In other news

I'm going home this weekend to get a new cell phone!!! I think i simply want more friends so i have more people to call my phone. I mean I'd at least like to put the new thing to use, more then i do now anyway.

Time to study and write a paper.

I'm nobody! Who are You?

Yesterday i had a pretty amazing day. I so rarely get those that when i don't take it for granted. I roll in the amazing day, skip and hop with the amazing day, cause I'm the kind of person who knows that feeling/day will not remain long.



It's not that i have a bundle of bad days. My days are good and well, but for the most part, especially during summer session...very uneventful. Summer session means less people, less events going around campus for me to be a surveyor of. And the loneliness is at an all time high



Anyway, back to yesterday. After a couple of bland days, full of 2 hour classes, drooling during my then 2 hour break, and then walking in the blazing heat back to my far as hell dorm, i was in need of a good day.

Last week or so, we had to write a paper for English. She gave us a list of topics we could choose from and i decided to write my paper on the similarities between the movie the Sixth Sense ("I see dead people") and a novel we read in class called "Wieland" ("I hear voices"). Even though class participation is a part of our grade, i still find it hard to do. Everyone seems so knowledgeable about stuff and i know nothing, so i don't say anything.

Everyone in my class seems to know some deeper meaning about the things we read. They give historical, political and economic evidence, while i sit completely confused as to which hat they pulled this information from. There arguments are completely logical and come from a purely academic place...i am jealous

When teachers give me compliments on my writing it never is about how "logical" my paper is. I don't use elements of history, big termed English motifs, and crap like that. I am unfortunately totally "feeling" based, which means most of my evidence to back up my argument is on a psychological type things. Emotional arguments, naturey(not a word) arguments, and nothing more.

Because i don't talk in class I knew that my paper had to make up for that. And it totally did, i guess she wasn't expecting much from me (seeing that i don't say much), but when she handed back my paper she was besides herself with great things to say about it. Not only did i totally surprise her in my "amazing" paper(as she put it) but i got a HUGE 96!!! on it. I waited till i was out sight to dance and shake at my really good grade, and then regained composure for the rest of the day, with a goofy smile on my face.

The good news did not only stop there, i made a 94 on my history exam, and finally got my DVD (featuring my husband) from amazon.com. I felt on top of the academic world, if i only had a hat and the Mary Tyler Moore theme song, it would have been perfect.

And then...Today happened.

Kryptonite:Superman::Poetry:Me

Everyone has their weak spots, and poetry is definitely mine. I hate poetry, i don't get it, don't like it, and would have no problem if i never read it again. Some contemporary stuff is okay, but that's about it for me and poetry. I cringe when it is discussed in class, and was devastated when we had to talk about Emily Dickinson today. After my paper, my teacher keeps looking to me for answers to her questions, today was no exception, except i didn't have any answers. I fumbled at Dickinson's meaning, guessed not so intelligently at what she was getting at, and literally said "i liked this poem cause it sounds pretty". And then after enough embarassment, she made me read the poem "I'm Nobody! Who are You?" Just because i'm quiet, doesn't mean i have to like Emily Dickinson, i bet if Emily Dickinson was alive today she would look at some of her work and go "what the hell was i thinking here".

In an instant, all of yesterday's goodness faded away, and i think i may have literally shrunk in my seat. During the break i almost debated not going back to class, planning to make up some excuse tomorrow that i was "dwelling in the house of Possibility" and i just got lost, or whatever crap poem it was called that we had to read today. I think it was the first time in a while i have ever felt embarassed, all i needed was some random kid in the hallway to pop his head in the door, point at me and go "HA HA" to put the icing on the cake.

I may be stretching it...

...but i think Emily Dickinson hates my f*cking guts.

More on this later

Catching Up.

In high school i hung out with my history professor.

It was never in a Mary Kay Letourneau way, but a totally friendship kind of thing. He was the coolest teacher at my high school, everyone loved him. He kind of resembled Santa Claus, said hey by saying "greetings and salutations" and was absolutely brilliant.

In the 11th grade Marie and I had him for American History. We had previously heard about him from friends, and he frequently stopped in to other teachers classes to talk about current news. So we were more than excited when we found out he would be our History teacher for the semester.

The class was interesting, he made us participants in history rather than observers. He would implement games and movies to keep us interested. After a few weeks class, i began asking him questions in the hall when i saw. I was generally intrigued with history, and he was a man he knew everything about everything.

I generally have an interest in people who know useless information. It's because i am a curious person, so anyone who can provide me with answers when i have questions, is on the top of my favorite people list.

Talking to him in the hallway soon led to hanging out in his classroom during lunch. I wouldn't stay for long, but just long enough to catch up on current news and share peanut butter cookies with him before heading to the library.

Soon 12th grade came and i wasn't in his class anymore. I still talked to him when i saw him, but our afternoon lunch Q & A's stopped. I went to him for my college recommendation, and he and my advisor both talked to me about colleges and things like that.

Even though me and the history teacher talked frequently I never thought much about the extent of our relationship. Marie went on to take AP History with him, and because she is much more assertive than i am, i assumed their relationship was much closer. I assumed everyone else's relationship was much closer to him, because i was simply just a cliche high school wallflower.

So i was a little surprised on Saturday when my mom called me and told me she spoke to one of my old friends. I instantly thought it was "Peter?, Aric?, the other Eric?, Brianna?, Alana?, ", But no...it was HISTORY TEACHER.

My mom said they talked for a pretty long time, and he kept gushing about me. That I was his favorite student, that he missed our lunch Q & A's and that he wonders what i am doing. By this point even my mom was a little flattered 1) because i had never mentioned him before 2) she internally began to take all the credit for me turning out so well.

My mom was taking in all the praises until he indirectly asked for my phone number.

WTF Mr. History Professor.

While they were talking he said something on the line of "I wish i could call her sometimes".

Knowing my mother she probably made a "what the hell" face but then politely continued on with their discussion. She said she wouldn't give him my phone number, but that she would make sure i came to visit before i headed back to school in August.

She then began questioning me all about what the hell me and MR. History Teacher were talking about during our lunch Q & A's.

I swear up and down it was nothing more than peanut butter cookies and the US Government. Pinky Promise.

This wasn't the first awkward moment someone gushed about me(like the time the MAYTAG man came over to fix the washer machine for the 2nd time(the first time was during the summer when i was home) , and kept asking my mom were her "VERY VERY VERY nice daughter was". She and I were both freaked out by this, seeing the first time he was there i didn't say much to him, except when he asked me about my computer)

If and when i go back I'll have to drag Marie with me. I sure as hell am not going back alone.

Inquisition.

I had my first test for summer session. I think it went okay. I hope it went okay. I love history, or mainly i like learning about the past. I have my favorite decades down pact from fashion trends to writers...i love HISTORY. But the history classes aren't as interesting as Documentaries or books, and my excitement for history usually dies down within minutes of sitting in class.

My history teacher is pretty cool though. He makes Latin American history interesting, and plus he always moves his hands when he talks which makes things interesting. It's like hand puppets, and because i sometimes have the humor of a 3 year old marveling at the simplest of things, i pay attention.

Spanish is going a little easier than English. I once again am having problems with this talking in class thing. I do well one on one, and when we have to partner up i speak and have some sort of input in discussion, but as soon as we move into our group of 10 people, i say absolutely nothing.

It's not that i don't want to say something, because i do, and in my mind i feel like i have interesting things to say. But as soon as i am about to say something...absolutely nothing comes out. Nothing at all, and i just let someone else speak.

My teacher grades participation, which sucks, because i listen and pay attention, and take mad notes, but as soon as it comes to the speaking part i freeze up. She does call on me from time to time, and sometimes intelligent things come out, but most times i am mumbling mid yawn as she gives me the evil eye. I think she believes i am a slacker.

I wish i had some excuse like i am "terribly driven by fear to say something" but it just isn't the case. I can talk in front of people, I've done it before. With friends and family I talk freely, but in class i completely and utterly silent, hell maybe i am "terribly driven by fear".

Who knows, i have to start speaking though or my participation grade is going to be really low.

Time to study. Trust me i don't want to but someones got to do it.

Oh...and my 1st choice for writing School is this glorious school and place of study. Word of mouth is my not so secret crush went here(though i seriously didn't figure that out till after i began checking it out).

Playing Detective

This morning i headed to the gym. I am making a valid effort to get my butt to the gym at least three times a week. I like working out, i mean in an air conditioned room with tv's hooked up to the machines, i am an exercising monster. I only do about 45 minutes a dat, but afterwards, despite the sweat and thirst, i am amazed at how far i can push myself on those machines.

So this morning i was decked out in my gym clothes, ready to embark on another exercise routine. My dorm is pretty far from the actual gym. My dorm is pretty much far from everything, so i have to plan my trips on campus wisely. We literally have to cross some sort of bridge/cross way to get to campus. It's a flipping long cross way, that only leads to this huge stairs we have to climb, to only get to another cross way, and then finally i am at least halfway to class.

Because my dorm is so far i have pretty much come to a conclusion that if i forget something i am pretty much shit out of luck, because there is no turning back. Along with the "no turning back" thing, i rarely make treks up to heart of campus, unless i have to, so i try to make sure that i get everything i need during the times i am near everything, because there is no way in hell i am walking too and from things all day.

This summer has proven to be a hot one, and being one who doesn't do well in the heat, i can't imagine walking all day with the sun beating me into the ground. NO WAY.

So back to my gym thing...i was heading to the gym with all my stuff in tow, no turning back on my agenda, and ready for my 45 minutes of intense working out. As i was minding my own business listening to my Ipod, i hear and fell a noise come crashing at my feet. I was at first stunned, jumping a little because i had no clue what it was. I looked up to see a window open on the 4th floor, and then wiped what felt like water off of my face.

SOMEONE THREW A F*CKING WATER BALLON MY WAY!!!!

Luckily i was not deterred and continued walking like nothing had come shooting may way. I wasn't going to let that F*cker see panic or fear on my face. So i kept on strutting, pissed as hell of course, but strutting.

It wasn't until i got the gym that i realized the "water ballon" hurled at me, was no other than FRUIT. Someone is hurling Fruits out the window, and i was almost a casualty of it. I had noticed this past week a number of fruit laying across the walkway, i thought nothing of it, until today as i wiped the apple/banana leftovers from my clothes.

Luckily i was able figure out what window the fruit was thrown from, and along with studying for exams, i plan on fingering the apple thrower at all cost. I've already reported the incident, but i still want to see the punks and at least glare at them from a distance as they are carted away, with fruit in tow.

I Drove to Chicago.

There is no doubt that i am completely and utterly in love with Sufjan Stevens.

I don't know what the attraction is..okay i do know what the attraction is: He's talented, older, kind of sensitive, mysterious, and has the physical characteristics that i am a sucker for(cool colored eyes, disheveled hair thing going on). But most importantly he is fantastic writer, lyrically anyway.

His lyrics, though they make references to god a lot, are amazing, and he researches things like crazy. I pretty much admire his writing abilities, and the painstaking research he does in preparation for his material.

I heard, via an interview he did with WNYC radio, that he spent hours researching material for his Illinoise album. Locked up in his room, he discovered things about the magical state of Illinoise,and he cranked out by far his most popular song "Chicago" due to his research and own experience living near Chicago.

Beside wanting to be his babies mama(Maury style) i greatly appreciate the man, and his craft...and would also love to make sweet sweet...music with him.

But me and Sufjan do not share the same familiarity with the Midwest. I have and always will be an East Coast girl. And though now lives in Brooklyn, he may hold a certain love for his home state, and major city, that i do not quite have.

I bring this up because on Monday or Sunday i talked to Marie. It was the first time she had heard my plans to become a writer instead of doctor. Marie is totally science driven, she has known what she wanted to do since she was a born, but she totally didn't put down my new career venture even giving me some names of schools in which have great MFA programs.

On her list was Northwestern. I have heard of Northwestern before, but never had an interest in it. I'm totally big on traveling, and visiting a million places, but i always planned that my education and where i live would be rooted somewhere in the East Coast.

I love the East Coast. I love the North East. I have accent and the scars to prove that this is my humble home. It's pretty much where i plan to live when i get older, and way down the line where i plan to raise my family. I plan on working in the Big City, Summers at the Shore or in Boston, Trips to Florida and maybe Savannah. The East Coast is amazing, and not just because i have been on this side my whole life, but because it simply is the place to be. It's lovely.

I daydream a lot. Of escaping to magical places, with men like Sufjan Stevens, but at the end of that daydream i always return to my lovely imgained castle on the East Coast.

But after Marie mentioned Northwestern i was curious to see what there MFA program offered. And to my great disappointment, it is FLIPPING AMAZING, their writing program is the most exciting thing i have ever seen in my whole entire life. Zach Braff went to school here, it's only a year long program(i believe) and it seems to be everything i am looking for. I'm relatively new at this and the seem to want students who are willing to grow and develop in their program. NO GRE is required, and all i need is recommendations, writing sample, a mission statement of sorts, and that's about it.

But it's in Chicago. CHICAGO?!

I have no problem with Chicago, but it's the not the East Coast. I don't know how i feel about being so far away from the comforts of home. Away from accents, and Nathans, and a NEW YORK state of mind. Sure i can take being 4 hours away or even more on the coast, but i don't know how i would feel being that far away.

But then again it is only a year. I could learn a lot in a year. Plus Oprah is in Chicago. That's got to be a plus somewhere.

I have some thinking to do. I mean it's not a done deal or anything. But it's something to think about.

I'm surprised to learn...

That i am not the only one who has no idea what they want to do with their life.

Interesting revelation.

Benjamin Franklin Can Suck It.

Today was the first day of summer classes, and lets say my course load is looking pretty crazy.

American Lit is not as fun as i thought it would be, after a embarassing "lets introduce each other" Q & A, I was a little disappointed to learnt that i would be spending the majority of summer school struggling with boring readings by our founding fathers.

Listen i love Benjamin Franklin like everyone else, but i really cannot comprehend reading +50 pages of yadda. I literally spent the last 2 hours staring at a big ass book, almost drooling from boredom at the words before me. What the F*ck are we reading Benjamin Franklin for anyway. Sure he's American, sure he's an important figure, but come on..he's not the ONLY American who has written a book.

My class is really small, only 14 of us, 2 of whom are boys. I usually find a boy in my English class to crush on from a distance, so i have a reason to come everyday. Unfortunately the 2 boys in my class are A) a heavy set biker, with several painful looking piercings and tattoos. His head is shaved except for a small braided piece of hair that falls past his neck. Along with the rat tail, he has a long pointed beard, to cover his missing front teeth. Obviously not crush worthy, I'm just not into the whole biker toothless thing.

B)The other boy...Oh the other boy talks like Mickey Mouse. His name is Clayton, he wore shorts with sandals and socks. Did i mention that he talks like Mickey Mouse, i thought i had joined Kids Incorporated every time he spoke. He was uber nice though, in that cartoon kind of way.

Even my crushing options are pretty slim.

My teacher is also a little odd. She sounds surprised by everything, which can be grating. She also expects us to talk in class, which i suck at, but now have no choice because participation is taken in to account in our grades.

After the embarrassing "Lets introduce ourselves with the game 2 lies and a truth" moment and feeling like everyone thought i was a criminal( Lets just say 911 + a curious me in kindergarten= a call that i regret making, but one that I have never done since. I was in kindergarten for goodness sakes, it's not like i KILLED anybody...sorry i got a little carried away), i became a little reluctant to speak in class, except when she called on me.

It was the longest 2 hours and 15 minutes of my life, and as soon as it was over i think i may have ran out of there, into an elevator where i had the strangest conversation with a hot dude. I felt we had crossed Elevator Etiquette by discussing such a banal topic like the weather.

So after escaping the cutie in the elevator and his weather conversation, i sat in a corner and "tried" to read the readings for tomorrow. I only ended up skipping the whole "reading" thing and played in the computer lab until History started.

So far History is way cool. There is 65 people, a handful of boys to daydream about, and not that much talking unless we generally have a question.

Summer school is going to be a tad harder than i thought.

I also met my roommates for the first time yesterday. Since i have learned my lesson(some what) from freshman year, i will not say anything bad about them...

Except

They are pretty snotty.

Enough said.

Oh What A Night.

Thank God I am back at school.

Trust me i LOVED laying around all day reading books (no trashy books this time), flipping through on demand, and having the cats at my feet. It was perfect. But i needed to come back to school. No doubt about it. This last week has been the week of hell dealing with my pain in the ass brother.

I hate writing about my brother, honestly i do. I take no pleasure in calling him a: douche, ass, idiot, and psycho. But he is all of the above and more, and though i have tried to play Dr. Phil at home, last night was the craziest thing i have ever been through in my whole entire life.

Oh where do i begin:

As i mentioned last week, my mother and I picked my brother up last week after he was stranded with his semi-girlfriend, at the beach. I basically asked my mom to pick him up, mainly because i didn't want him to interrupt me moving all my stuff for summer school this Sunday.

To say he was ungrateful that we picked him up would be an understatement. This week was his birthday, and some how he felt entitled to some sort of big gift. Unfortunately, for him, that was not in the cards. My brother is the kind of person who hates everyone else's birthday besides his. My mom on the other hand is the kind of person who only gives what she thinks you deserve, by no means playing favoritism though. I got an ipod for my birthday mainly because she took in consideration that i am going to school and for the most part trying my hardest to make something out of myself. After getting a book for his birthday, he pouted the whole day, and basically started acting like a ass.

So on Friday i woke up with a bad feeling. It was like a stomach ache that i couldn't shake. It also didn't help that all of this/last week i have been having nightmares like a two year old. The dreams were of things disintegrating and i spent many nights waking up several times frustrated with my dreams and with myself.

Of course my bad feeling became an all to real bad feeling when my brother came stumbling home drunk at 6 in the afternoon yesterday. Yes, DRUNK. He later passed out on his bed, smelling heavily of whisky. Did i mention that he was driving while intoxicated. For some reason drinking and driving is not something i take lightly. I have seen enough afternoon specials with Oprah and HBO to know that that is something you just don't do. EVER.

At this point i was beyond fed up with my drunken and careless brother. As he laid on his bed, i crept in to remove the car keys from his room. I can't have that crap on my conscious. I mean, DRUNK DRIVING....no way, so i took them for everyone's safety. He slept for the majority of the night. We checked in on him periodically while we packed my things into the car.

I finally got to bed around 1, and then all hell broke loose. He woke up, mad that he had slept so long, and more frustrated that he couldn't find his key. I tried to take hold of the situation by calming him down, but of course that didn't work. It was like something out of a movie, it was raining pretty heavily as my brother runs outside to unsuccessfully open the car door. He's standing in the rain, yelling about something with our house door wide open, as i watch on in sheer confusion.

He just keeps repeating i have to "GO SOMEWHERE!"
And i kept repeating "Not with the car"

I finally get my mom, because...well i didn't know what to do. I assumed she would do something. RIGHT? Kick him out right then and there, call the cops, SOMETHING. Well that didn't happen, she instead offers to drive him wherever he needs to go, at 2am in the morning. I am standing there flabbergasted, saying "does anyone else think this is weird. Kick him out". I think i kept repeating that to no avail.

My mom takes my brother where he needs to go, and i am literally sitting in the house, all alone with the rain pounding on our roof... SPEECHLESS. I have never been so unable to say something in my whole entire life. I went mute for completely an hour, searching for words that did not come out.

That continued for the majority of today. Nothing would come out of my mouth, as if i was literally too traumatized by the night to utter any words. The more and more i searched for something to say to any one of them, nothing but a crock came out.

I don't know what is going to happen. I can't let it affect me. But that home...isn't my home anymore. It's a bizarre place, that i am more than happy to be away from. I love my mom, but there is no way that i can go back to that house, with my crazy brother running loose. At some point she has to kick him out, and until she does that...that home will never be home to me. Just some weird resemblance of a place it should be, but never can be.

See this is why Sufjan Stevens would never marry me. My family is CRAZY.

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.