Round Two

My computer almost caught on fire yesterday.

The stupid battery wire is being eaten by my cats, or is being bent endlessly by my writing in bed at weird angles. Whatever the case a couple of days ago i noticed that wire was bent so badly that the lining of battery wire was tearing.

Regardless of the "stop messing with it" voice that persisted i really wanted to play the Sims Pet edition and put caution to the wind.

So yesterday as i was naming my new lab Story, sparks began spouting out of exposed wire. After yelling for what seemed like 5 minutes, i pulled the sparky plug from my computer, and stared in agony at another computer problem.

Either I have really bad luck with computer devices or Best Buy hates me. So i have to make another trip to best buy so they can replace sparkly battery wire although the guy on the phone said my full coverage doesn't cover a battery catching on fire.

I guess you actually have to catch on fire for them to replace it for free.

Postscript:

1) HAPPY NEW YEAR

2) Since i only have 47% battery life i must make this quick. New Years Eve was okay. Went Car shopping saw a pretty Jeep for 10,000!!! but sales dude was really hot, though we didn't buy the car. 2 more weeks of break and i have decided i must finish at least one script/story (seriously) to see if i can actually do this writing thing. My new adapter for computer will arrive in 8 days(damn) but hopefully he meant four and it will be in the mail sometime this week. I hope it will come because i can't do anything on this computer except write really short posts and check email. Until then...

Beckett.

Life Interrupted.

I love how you spend hours, days, energy and money to buy Christmas presents, wrap them, place them under the tree, only to have them all open in a matter of moments. Before you know it you are sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and presents, wondering why the time spent buying presents isn't as long as opening them.

My mom loved her presents. Lucky being an awesome shopper and saving money since i started working I was able to buy her a television, microwave, Cd player, 2 Cd's, a book, and a address book. The TV and microwave were the biggest hit of course.

I got several books(Edward Hopper book, Langston Hughes),2 Cd's, 2 DVDs(Little Miss Sunshine and Lady in the Water)The Sims Pet Edition!!, and an Ipod stereo thing, plus some really cozy socks. We didn't wait for my brother to wake up, we knew he would some how spoil
the mood and instead open them up at 7:30.

All in all it was a good day, my mom couldn't stop staring at her new microwave, i was hooked on the iPod stereo thing, and when my brother finally did wake up(around 11) he was preoccupied with the MP3 player my mom bought him.

But perhaps the thing about Christmas is that it's the one day, at least for me, where i try to avoid family conflicts, put pride behind me, and place a smile on my face.

The day after Christmas though that flies out the window and because conflicts are always around some corner I am ready to face them head on.

I've mentioned before that my brother is an idiot, along with a slew of other things.

He is kind of like this walking, talking, incompetent....idiot. For the most part i choose to ignore him, as he does with us. The only time he says something to either one of us is when he is asking for money.

I'd like to say that i remembered the exact moment my brother started to disintegrate from the brother in my childhood memories. The once smiling, always kind of off in his own world, but never to far that we couldn't reel him in, brother. But the truth is is that i can't pinpoint anything, because like most things, change, even in people, is a gradual process that continues until transformation is complete.

What we are now left with is the terror living in the bedroom next to mine, whose destructive wraith leaves everything in it's path destroyed.

Being at school is totally different. You kind of don't realize that during the process of completing college you establish a way you live your life. Who would have known the simple things like coming and going as i please, choosing what to eat, where to hang out, and what i do with my time were all glimpse into how i will continue to live me life. A pinch here and there of simplicity marked with an element of surprise.

But coming home there has been an interruption in that all to the thanks of my brother.

Until the other night, after making another round of asking my mother for money i became all to aware of the power he has over this house which threatens to make it feel less like a home. My mother is totally frightened of Morgan, not because of anything physical but simply because he manages to destroy what she has struggle to build..all in a matter of seconds.

Every time she has to bail him out of trouble, pay another parking ticket, give him money, is not because she is a pushover as i once perceived, but it's because she realizes that he has the ability(as we have seen in the past) to destroy everything she has built...and it is out of fear that he rules on.

But i remember as i child whenever we had bad dreams, my mother would say you have to defeat whatever is causing the terror and you won't have those dreams anymore. Incidentally who had reoccurring nightmares. He was always a tad bit afraid of the dark and not a fan of anything truly scary.

And thinking back on that now, i realize she was not only talking about dreams. Perhaps we feed the monsters that haunt our lives. We create the space for them to hide in the crevices, and lurk in the dark. And getting rid of them is simply about taking the power back, and realizing that behind ever big bad wolf, bogeyman, and monster under the bed is scared little is the scared little boy it once was.

I'm kind of ready to get back to my life, bogeyman free, and to my own routine again.

Marie once again keeps calling to invite me to do things, but i don't think i can stomach anymore boyfriend talk. He went on a ski trip before Christmas, and she called to tell me how bored she was. After agreeing to go hang out with her, she squealed(yes squealed!) when he called: "OH HE CALLED ME!!!", after recovering from throwing up in my mouth a little i put an end to hanging out time.

Sometimes i wish i could make New Years Resolution for other people.

Marie's would be: Develop life outside of boyfriend.

But i guess making resolutions for other people wouldn't really work.

Time to embark on reading some book, by some woman, who i picked up at the library.

Happy..Merry Christmas

I always have trouble combining Merry Christmas with Happy New Year, so usually my holiday greetings come out being "Happy Merry New Year Christmas". I have said it about 5 times to people who then give me the confused face. I guess i should just opt for "Enjoy the Holidays!"

Of course it was another sleepless night. Tossing, turning, and exasperation at this whole not being able to sleep on Christmas Eve. Part of me thinks i should have grown out of it a long time ago, like once you hit some pivotal age Christmas becomes to some extent a regular sleeping event.

But, since i am not the Grinch, that isn't the case and here i am 6 in the morning writing.

This Christmas season is a little different because it's the first time i have bought gifts. I mean when i was in high school i probably got my mom to by three gifts for friends and that was the end of it.

But perhaps because this year has been trying on my mother, i decided to buy presents for the family. I had been saving since i got my job in the library and was able to buy more than enough presents.

Oddly enough i guess my anticipation and restlessness was not because of what awaits me under the Christmas tree, but what awakes them.

My mom kept asking me what i had bought for myself, and i suddenly realized i hadn't bought anything(minus one Cd).

I guess amidst the hectic mess of buying Christmas presents, of getting cut in line by impatient shoppers, turning into one a few times, missing and catching sales, being lost as to what to get my family, i realized that the reason i hadn't cared about what i was getting was because i want something more than what Santa can squeeze under the brightly lit tree.

My gifts at this point are not tangible, they aren't a new pair of shoes, a killer cd or dvd, and i don't think i can take another sweater.

What i want I have to go searching on for myself, pushing past the impatient, indecisive, guilt ridden shopper within me to find what i am looking for.

But until then...i don't mind browsing the aisle.

Merry Christmas Blog World and friends.

I hope it is everything you wished it to be.

-Beckett-

Re: The Game of Life

As soon as i got home last Friday i was faced with a mother and brother who were sick. I mean coughing, sneezing, aching, and all but passing out on the nearest seat.A week later after threatening harm if any of them got me sick before Christmas, i am lying in a bed with my faithful cat at my side suffering from all the symptoms listed above. DAMN.

Of course now my brother and mom are recovering nicely, while i have been dragging around with a blanket and a headache.Being sick royally sucks, because while being sick I've had to decorate the whole house, buy presents,wrap presents, hang out with Marie, and try not to pass out during the process of all that.

And don't even get me started on the freaky dreams i get when i am sick.

Today i feel a tad bit better and hope it i feel completely myself on Christmas day.

Despite being under the weather Marie and I headed out Wednesday to buy each other Christmas presents. Marie is not the easiest person to buy Christmas presents for. Me on the other hand am very easy, Cd/DVD/ and you've got me pretty much covered. It also helps because i always do the obvious "hey look at this "wink wink" " and i actually say wink wink to make it perfectly clear.

Marie on the other hand never admits she likes anything. "that ugly, it's not practical, yadda yadda yadda". So this year,perhaps because i wasn't well enough to drive all over town trying to guess what to get her, i opted for the "lets just buy the presents in front of each other, at least we will get actually what we want. She agreed, and that is what we did.

I got killer new shoes and an Amos Lee Cd, and she got....well two hours later while we were still looking for her gift, she decided on the game of life,as well as a book. We ended up back at my house and decided that we didn't want to wrap presents we had already seen, so we played Life.

Oh life....how i have fond memories of that game.

I can't pinpoint the first time i played it, but i can remember my brother finding another way to cheat, my mother getting stuck with the house no one wanted, and me hoping i didn't get stuck with the lowest pay.

Life was just the best game ever. That stupid car, with the stupid peg people, and all the stops players had to make. Get married, buy a house, get a job.

But it was kind of different playing this time, perhaps because we too were starting just where the game begins. At a crossroad of college and career.

The game was eerily freaky. She became a doctor(vet) who made 90,000 a year. She ended up with a husband and 1 kid. She didn't receive many life tiles(which are like bonuses for monumental life moments), bought bad stock, sold her home only to end up in the one she didn't want. She was in the lead for most of the game. Whizzing through life.

My car must have taken the detour. I picked the entertainer card, racked up a comfortable 80,000, got hitched had four kids, and lived in a nice colonial. Though i was so far behind i thought i would never catch up, a racked up a whole bunch of life tiles, and eventually got in the lead.

And won.

After that we decided to scrap LIFE. Playing the game this time around made me realize how unreal the game is. Unfortunately everyone doesn't ride on the same course, and despite the occasional "house has been broken into, pay 20,000(if not insured)", there are a little more pitfalls than that.

What the game lacks( and yes i know it's only a game, but i got something from it) is all the all the in between. Cause if you think about it, it's the inbetweens that make our life beautiful and special. It's the experiences and people, and indecisiveness that makes life...well not a board game.

Who wants to be in the game of life, where everyone has seen and passed the same objects and
milestones. Where you're path is totally predestined for you, and where the ending is always the same.

Not me. I rather take a chance on the real game of life, far away from peg people.
Christmas is only a couple of days away and i am kind of excited, i may even watch A Christmas Story for the hell of it. Trust me i love the movie, but i don't love how they play it all day.
What a hectic crazy year this has been, and not only is Christmas the day for celebrating, opening presents, appreciation, and above all...FOOD, but it's the day when you it's the countdown for the end of the year. And one for nostalgia i can't help but look back at the year and realize what all has happened.

And yes it is another year i am thankful is at a close, but i see that leaps and bounds i have made, and I'm excited because next year can only promise me some of those monumental Life Tiles stored up for me.

We'll see.

The Pursuit of HappYness

On Friday Marie and I went to see The Pursuit of Happyness.

Normally i"m not a fan of tear jerkers. Cause lets be honest you put Will Smith and his real like son in a movie about a father trying to overcome heartbreaking obstacles to accomplish a dream with a young son in tow you are bound to shed some tears.

Though i was extremely tired on Friday after returning home from school and spending the majority of the day decorating and buying Christmas present, i was more than willing to go to a movie at 9:30pm, to get my mind off of Chemistry.

As usual Marie and I were cursed with the movie jinx and ended up sitting next to the two people in the whole theater who would not shut up. They were a boyfriend and girlfriend who decided to spew every thoughtless comment out of their mind. What food they were going to eat after the movie, how much Will Smiths son looked like him, and everything else that they wanted to talk about. It was as if the whole audience were seated in their living room which gave them the liberty to talk as freely as they wanted to during the movie.

Between their conversation though, i did manage to get some of the movie's content in. And even though the tear jerker genre isn't for me, i was impressed by it. It was cheesy uplifting, like a lifetime movie where the sweet and gentle person finds there weigh through hardships(usually medical related...cancer/some weird disease no one's ever heard of) and comes through triumphant.

This one was more real. He was a faults, disappointments, but he made it through it. I mean besides making it to become a stock broker he became the father he never had, and he pursued HappYness, the hardest and most difficult pursuit of all.

I couldn't help but think of my pursuit of happiness, to think about what in the world it means to me, and trying to figure out if i have the willpower to go and fight for it.

As i have mentioned before i have kind of hit a crossroad. Not only do i not know what i want to do with my life but i haven't a clue on how to get to that point where the road becomes clear. I actually think i am preventing myself from seeing the course i want to take. Which is both frustrating and tiresome.

I can't pursue happiness when I'm not willing to admit how hard it may be to establish my own dream. But i look around me and everyone in my life is seems so...unhappy with where they are. They of course are the one's giving me advice that is becoming more useless as they give them to me.

I've have always had a problem with having my voice be heard. It some how gets lost in the crowd and i struggle to find which viewpoint i want to listen to. But maybe my first step to happiness is finding and validating my own voice. To not always question the one voice whose wholehearted interest in finding my pursuit of happyness. I figure that voice only will carry me through the fog. Lets hope it will.

Christmas is one week ago, and this year we have bought presents. Last year we just celebrated the holiday it's self, getting one giant family present instead of individual ones. But because this is our first Christmas in new apartment, i figured gift giving should be brought back int the equation.

So yesterday at target i coolest microwave known to man for my mom. You may be wondering "Beckett, a microwave? That's an unusual present". But you have not see my mom's ugly purple 1985 microwave(i must take a picture of this thins). She got it at a yard sale or something, and i have burnt many dinners in their. it's just the ugliest thing i have ever seen, and i am pretty certain she'll be happy with the one i got her.

I have been shaking the boxes with my name on it to try and figure out what it could be. All the shaking I've done i hope i didn't break the damn thing. I hoping it isn't clothes though, ever year i get some shirt i am never going to wear paired with a sweater three sizes to big. Lets hope she sticks to the basics, movies/cd's/and books.

WHAT THE.....

How in the world did i get a B in English. I am beyond perplexed at the grade i recieved after all the praise. Sure i didn't study nearly as much for english as i did Chemistry and Math, sure i may have missed the study session because i was taking a Biology exam, but a B!


I was counting on that class to be my A. I have been walking around for days secure that that class would be my A. I mean i knew she would either give me a break because she liked me and my story, or give me a harder time because she knew i could do more. I was hoping for option A.

Now i am very frightened to know what my last two grades of the semester are going to be, if english went this bad.

Minor shock and setback but at least i passed Chemistry!!!!!

I still feel violated and robbed.

P.S. Alice story to be mailed out shortly

Well then...

I am fucking tired. Excuse the cursing, but i just got out of the longest three hour exam of my whole entire life.

After having a really high moment yesterday with my story, i have hit a low period with my chem exam. There are no words to describe how f*cked up that exam was. 20 pages that weighed more than i do, composed of material that was so ambiguous to what we had learned. The first person didn't finish until at least hour two, and by then i had given up. Oh i stayed the whole 3 hours, playing around with numbers hoping that just by showing work i will get some credit for it.

I am so exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted and i haven't even started packing.

This semester has been so weird. I feel like i have made leaps and bounds but am more and more confused about my future. Is it wrong to not have an idea of what i want to do. The more and more i take classes and get closer and closer to graduating the more doubts i have about going into medicine. Like it isn't a passion and i absolutely suck at everything science.

I mean sitting there and struggling through those problems almost affirmed what i have been denying for so long. That i don't think this is my path. Even if i wanted it to be (which at this point i don't want). It's weird i feel like growing up it was something i wanted to do, but the more and more i have been faced with coming closer to that "dream" the more i am notice that i dislike it. I mean even last year, going to those conferences with med students who stuck there noise up at everyone beneath them, was a downer.

I never thought in a million years i would come to a point in my life where i didn't know what i want to do. Who i want to be, where i want to go. I just know that perhaps the reason this road is so difficult is because it isn't the one i am suppose to be on.

I have all Christmas to think about this, but now i must pack and pray(in the non biblical more whining) that my professor will take pity on my soul and pass me.

Overwhelmed.

Today I cried walking down the street.

The sky was extra gray and dark, the leaves have all but fallen from the tress, as atear is fell from my eye. And yet it was the most amazing tear that i have ever shed.

Today I got my course project back in English. I was terribly frightened that I had ruined an classic children's novel. You can't take a book that has been a part of literature for who knows how long, alter it in a movie like form, and think you have done it justice. I had literally finished it the night before it was suppose to be handed in. And even then I was nervous about turning it in.

So today walking into my final exam, I was anxious to get it back. She didn't make eye contact with me, which made me think she absolutely hated it. But then I figured out I wasn't making eye contact because I was scared of getting it back.

But as I went to turn in my paper, she grabs my story and soundtrack I turned in with more enthusiam then I have ever seen. And she says "can you email the soundtrack to me it was astounding." WHAT?! and that wasn't even the end of it.

As I headed back to my dorm, I looked at my grade which was a nice A, with the comment. "this is SPECTACULAR. Seriously, this film should be made! I couldn't stop reading? You have a vivid imagination and a great sense of pacing. I love it. Gorgreous work-and the Cd is wonderful too. You should write this Beckett."

WHAT?!?!?!

I was overwhelmed alright...I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like I have this ability to do and be something so great and wonderful. That people see it in me all the time, that teachers like the stuff that I write, and people like to talk to me, and maybe even a non crazy boy or two may think I am interesting person. But I don't see it. I don't believe it, I refuse to take it in.

But then I get affirmations like these, which show me that I have a skewed sense of my self worth. That to others I am radiant and beautiful and capable of anything I set my mind to. And yet...I have to learn to see it and believe it for myself. And maybe in that I will find what I am looking for.

But today I feel like I may be on the path to getting there. And if that knowledge alone isn't worth crying for then I don't know what is.

Playdate

As a kid I had more Play dates than I can clearly remember now.

From pre-school to about the 3rd grade(before they are called hanging out) I was a frequent visitor to someone else's house.

My mom could not explain it. Especially since I was a pretty shy kid in school. Whatever the case by Kindergarten alone I went to at least 5 play dates that year. Who knows why.

There was the weird girl from summer camp whose house smelt of grill cheese. She had a basement full of toys but also liked to pick me up, which crept me out. Her house was really nice though, her mom decorated for each holiday elaborately and free grill cheese never hurt anybody.

Then there was Heather whose house I was almost at as much as mine. She was my best friend and play dates there were a frequent thing. Her mom would always order cheese pizza just for me(because I don't eat any kind of pizza then cheese...I know weird), and we spent our time playing in her pool, or in her bedroom. Her mom would take us out to the movies and ice skating. I had the most fun there.

There was Katie who had a playground in her backyard, Kevin who had a wicked awesome car collection, Diana who I stayed up to watch I Love Lucy with, and many more.

But the playdate I remember the most was with a boy named Christopher. I was in Kindergarten and he was the boy I always hung out with. For a kid he dressed super conservative in sweaters and corduroy pants( I have a picture as proof). He had blonde hair and green eyes, and was crush potential for sure. So I wasn't surprised when his mom talked to my mom about a potential play date.

So after school I headed to his house. It was this amazing modern house. White on the outside with a whole lot of windows. When I went inside there was a piano, and a huge kitchen and even a study. I was more impressed with the piano, which he even played(badly of course but still). We mainly played in the backyard, and he even showed me his computer. At the time he was the only kid I knew had a computer in his house.

It was an amazing play date, with cookies and sandwiches. We ended that playdate playing in the front yard, running through the sprinklers.

So 10+ years later, I was not expecting to embark on another playdate.

As I mention Mike had asked me to study over his house this weekend. I was not really feeling it though. This past week he has been annoying me with his stupid remarks during Math class. I hate when you have a friend who doesn't act the same way in front of you when other people are present. He gets rude and dismissive of me, like I am a child. Which is not cool under any circumstances. On Thursday we were playing a normal Uno game by ourselves. We were having fun until he noticed some people from his philosophy class studying near us. After he spotted them he was so preoccupied with what they were doing we were barely even playing. He then wanted them to join our Uno game, and being a little hesitant I was not feeling it. When we began playing the big game I was pretty much put down by him in front of the group, and at that point I was pretty much done with Uno and I left.

Sidenote: Trying to talk to my mom about the put down situation was a bust. Unfortunately she tries to do the mom thing, making decisions for me: "ignore him, don't talk to him, tell him off the next time he says something like that" but I realize that I don't want to do it her way. Maybe in trying to gain my independence I want to handle situations they way I feel they should be dealt. Even if they are wrong, at least they are mine. At least it could work for me. My mom has this idea that if it works for her then it will work for me also. But I can't be an individual without making my own mistakes, and I realize I may not be able to go to her for much advice if she doesn't allow me to figure out what to do on my own. Instead of trying to hold my hand

So yesterday morning as I climb out of bed very tired, I was in no mood to go. He told me to call him at 9:30 to wake him up, but as soon as I had gotten up my fun was ringing and he said he was 8minutes away from my dorm. Luckily I am the worlds fastest dresser. And in minutes I was brushed, dressed, and out the door where Mike was parked.

After an hour of trying to find a place to eat, we stopped at the mall and looked around(yeah great studying I know). I made a trip to my old Hot Topic store to see if they had any band t-shirts(which they didn't), and he finally got food.

Then we headed to his place....Now Mike is very...Wealthy. I don't know what his dad does but when I first met him and his Porsche I figured his dad must do something really good. He had talked about his house before but of course this being my first visit I didn't know what to except. He talked endlessly about his neighborhood during the drive. The clubhouse, the equestrian trail, the ponds and parks. Before stopping at his house we stopped at the new house they are building. It was HUGE. Though it was not nearly ready to move anyone into, we snuck in through an open door and roamed the house. I can't even explain it, saying it was a mansion would be an understatement. It was beautiful.

We then headed to his house, which was just as gorgeous as the one we had left. It was decorated with Christmas decor from the outside and like a museum in the inside. He gave the grand tour, and I guess at this moment I had a feeling this wasn't going to be a study Saturday. We snuck past his mom as he showed me the master bedroom, study, kitchen, living room. We then headed upstairs to his side of the house. As we reached the top of the stairs we entered into his living room, which then led to his bathroom and his bedroom. There were flat screen televisions every where in that house, which extended from the wall. Ever since I have known him I wondered why he never moved on campus, after seeing the house I knew why.

Though we got at least an hour of study time in, we spent the majority watching TV. From Nick cartoons to HGTV. After giving up on the studying, I ate Ramon Noodles and we hung out with his dogs in the back(one in which he offered to give me). He showed me more of his house, but by then it was mid afternoon and I had to head back.

I felt confused by this study session, seeing that we didn't get much of anything done. I felt I was just there for a play date, doing what I would have done in my own house on a Saturday.

Though his house was amazing, there was something about it that was...Lonely. His mom was downstairs typing away in her office. His grandmother was in one of the living room watching TV, and he had a whole section of the house to himself. Some how the house was devoid of...the thing needed to make it a home. I had talk about this in therapy, that that was the thing missing in my house of anxiety. A mark or crack in the wall, that gave it life. It was missing a presence. Even his room lacked posters or pictures, little off beat things that made it his.

At any moment I thought the walls would come falling down, exposing the camera crew and the art decorator waiting to fix it up. For such a big house, clearly letting people know they had money, it was devoid of letting anyone know and feel like it had love. There was a silence about the place, which I notice after seeing and the TV's(and lets admit in awe of the flat screen). Like there needed to be some external noise to make up for the lack of internal one.

The fun thing about being in other people's houses is that you get to see how they function. I'm never one to look in people's medicine cabinets, but there are clues all over the place. And despite not having the lavish home with the equestrian trail and homeowners society bullcrap, I'm happy that my house at least has a presence. That it at least feels like home.

Anyway

This week is going to be killer. It is Finals week for all us college students which mean I will be back to regular posting on Friday. Hopefully I will do as well as I think I can , but it still is a little stressful nonetheless. Sufjan's lovely face and voice will have to carry me through this week. Wish me luck, i need it.

Beckett.

A Christmas Party.

What a bizarre weird day.

Today my job had a Christmas party. For weeks they have been leaving notes on the board in the office to remind us of the upcoming party. After seeing, briefly, the awkward disaster of a Halloween party that was thrown I was hoping to avoid going to this one too.

I mean I don't get the point of office parties. For the most part I rarely talk to the people I work with, and when I do it isn't about anything really good. The people at my job are pretty weird. "Dude who smells" still has a pretty bad odor, and it doesn't help working closely with him. Short Dude asks me the same questions over and over again, and everyone else either falls into a "too weird to talk to" or "doesn't work same shift to talk with" category. I am content with doing my job, then going back to my dorm.

So the concept of having a party at a job you don't really like(not because it's terribly hard but just because working in general sucks) with people who you don't particularly talk to is beside me. Is that really a party? Cause it sounds like a bad get together for me.

Despite all the notes on the board and yadda, I still pretended like "What Party?". We were suppose to bring money last week so they could go buy take out, but I didn't fork over my $7 bucks because I wasn't planning on going. If anything the party would be held after I left and I could avoid the whole situation. (Yeah I know great way to work on my social anxiety).

But at 11:00 a girl who I work with comes down to tell me the party has started and to join them upstairs.

CRAP.

Of course the party was very...Well there was only about 6 of us. 4 of whom had brought there money to eat. As soon as I walked into the office though a girl I never really talked to before said that I smelled nice. And I did, because I was using my new Cucumber Melon lotion. From there we spent the next two hours talking. YES...Two hours.

She(because I don't remember her name) is from China and a Graduate student at our college. We talked about China a lot, not that I have been to China and could talk much about my experience there, but always being one for learning about new cultures I prodded her to talk about China.

What I learned:

Students go to school from 7am-12pm, then a two hour break, then 2pm-5:30pm

There are no such things as the SAT, but instead one big exam that decides whether you can go to college or not

High School is hell

College is Freedom

And there aren't any Pep Rallies

And much more....

Our conversation was pretty much school oriented. Maybe I exude "she likes talking about grades" because for two hours that is what we talked about. I was really interested in the whole high school aspect of her life. While her high school sounded like a mind numbing, academic and competitive driven pressure dome...My high school was a lot different. More stress free. And I can even appreciate the pep rallies that I skipped.

Like most things life is full of rites of passage, experiences that we all share even through different eyes. We all have experienced high school and all the drama that went along with it. We were either jocks, nerds, drama kids, or teacher pets and probably all hated highschool while we were in it.

I ate in the library with friends, took my Ap classes, was the brainy girl who was always reading a book, and I worked in the library(go figure). Oh sure high school was hell, teens are weird beings, but listening to her talk about her high school...I was a little more appreciative, even of the my experiences there.

I of course now have no idea what this two hour talk fest means. Does this mean we are now Job Buddies? Am I suppose to talk to her when I see her at work now? Maybe this was just a one day thing, we were in the wrong place at the right time and bonded over our awkwardness.

Unfortunately today was my second to last day before break, and I won't be able to talk to my new "potential" friend until I come back to school in January and by then...who knows.

Anyway.

Yesterday was my last English class. She had planned our last week to be the easiest part of the class. On the last day we had to turn in out course projects, and those who wanted to present theirs could. I of course was not going to present my story and soundtrack. But I was interested to see what everyone else had done. Music guy( guys whose music I listen to in my room because of Itunes sharing server.YEAH!!) did a mix Cd for Anna karenina, I heard it earlier in the week through Itunes. It was really good and I was instantly jealous that his selection was better than mine. He didn't present his either because he is pretty shy like that. Girl next to me did a "How to lose a guy in 10 days" Madame Bovary style article, pretty good. Girl from Detroit did a Flavor of Love: realism style edition, and one girl played a Emo song.

But the funniest song,written and performed by my classmate, was the funniest thing I have ever seen. He never really said much in class academically, but would say funny things about how much he didn't like the characters in the novels we had read. He especially disliked Pamela, who if you haven't read is a story about a young maid whose boss wants to sleep with. He rummages her bosom in the story, along with watching her undress from a closet. Her story is told through letters she writes to her family. The letters are boring and long, and absurd but funny because of how wishy washy Pamela is. After basically turning him away several times she falls in love with him. And bosom rummaging abound they get married, we didn't have to read past that point.

So yesterday he announces he is going to sing a song written by Pamela to Mr. B(the bosom rummager.) He first starts off telling us he isn't a great singer, but a good guitar player which should make up for it. And then he starts...You had to be there. It was the funniest song I have heard. The chorus going something like "Dear Mr. B, Stay away from me, I don't want you to rummage...My Bosom", but he had such difficulty saying bosom, that it squeaked out from his voice.

The ending went of for a good minute with "I am Pamela, I am Pamela, Hi I'm Pamela, Pamela is Me..." before he admitted through guitar strum that he had difficulty finding what line to write there.

It was so funny. It should be on the radio or something. If I was friends with him I would ask him to play it over and over again. It was amazing. But of course the theatrical girl couldn't be overshadowed by him, and she went on to sing her own, less funny song. She stood up there belting out this altered rendition of "American Pie" with her own lyrics. It was kind of embarrassing as she did the whole Christina Aguilera hand movements without the amazing voice.

We laughed alright, but not at how funny her lyrics were. Once she tried to hit the Whitney Houston High night with the extra "Oooooooo" at the end, i had seen enough and unsuccessfully tries to muffle a laugh".

I will miss that class. It was hella cool.

Now I have to study for my 5 EXAMS next week. Not feeling the pressure really, but I know I have to buckle down and get to work soon. Tomorrow I am studying with Mike at his house. He's put me in such a bad mood this week though that I don't even feel like wasting my time with him tomorrow.

Hopefully it won't be as disastrous as I imagine it to be.

OH...and my therapist just called me, apologizing for Wednesday. Even though I hate to admit it, I was uber happy that she called and reassured me that she still wants to squeeze me in her schedule if anyone cancels. If not she is looking foward to seeing me next year.

Back to Math.

Funniest Day Ever!!!

My mom has ordered this tree from Urban Outfitters. She usually doesn't look at my clothes magazines because they aren't the kind of things she is in too. But yesterday she called me very about the charlie brown tree she saw in the book. Now in our family Charlie Brown is like a saint, we respect and love the guy. We especially love the christmas special with his sad pathetic tree. Needless to say along with our traditional christmas tree this fellow will be parked right next to it.

More to come after chemsitry class. Mainly the tale of the hilarious song one of my classmates wrote for Madame Bovary. It was the most brillant song i have heard ever about bosom rummaging. Yeah...Bosom Rummaging.

Bummer.

Today was suppose to be my last therapy session before Christmas break. I was suppose to show and explain my drawing of the boxes, there was bound to be some tears, laughs, and a feeling like I was closer to something.

I was anticipating it, though I scribbled down the boxes during a break from my job, I was surprised at what it revealed, I felt it was the key to many of my anxiety related problems.

So as soon as 1:30 came, I was out of the library quicker than anyone in the whole entire world, holding this paper in my hand that I felt was the key to something bigger than myself.

As I was speed walking I saw Katherine, she called my name two times as I kept looking behind me to figure out who was calling me. I waved politely, said hey, and went on my way.

Up 7 stories I went, with a cute boy who is also on his way to the therapy waiting room. It's funny getting in those elevators and looking at all the people going on the 7th floor, it's like a secret society for depressed, anxiety ridden college kids.

And as I walk into the lobby, go to tell the lady receptionist I am here for my 2 o'clock she informs me that my therapist went home sick, and that I must reschedule. !!!! Unfortunately next week will be hell and then I am going home for break. So i won't have another sesiion until next semester. Bummer. She said I could leave my number just in case someone cancels a session, but seeing that it is the week before exams and everyone is pretty much at a high stress level, my chances are pretty slim in getting a session in.

All that excitement and now I am bummed. Of all the days to get sick. Now I feel like I am going blindly down some road, I wanted someone to let me know I was going on the right path, especially before break.

Anyway.

Today during book shelving hell, I ran into someone I went to high school with. Her mom knows my mom and thus we are some how connected. She is two years older than me so we never really talked, we rather just knew of each other through our parents. She's nice though i suppose she has to be since her name is Promise.

I usually have a bad feeling about people with names like Hope, Angel, Princess( I knew a princess). Even names like Jade/Jewel/Mercedes/ and Star put a sour look on my face. I instantly think that are polar opposites of their names. (But being named after 2oth century writers ain't a bad choice for kids names. I'm just saying) But Promise is actually pretty nice, and sure she's isn't a saint, but who is these days.

So after saying hi we talked for about 15 minutes. School, Family, what we want to do after graduation, things like that. During the conversation she solemnly said that it was tough getting older, she works with kids at an elementary school and she wished she could tell them how easy they have it.

I remember as I kid I wanted nothing more than to become an adult. I was looking forward to it. I had everything planned out from age 10. At 13 I would be dating some super duper hot dude. At 16 I would have a car and work as a life guard. At 18 I would to the University of Michigan, and at 21 I would be preparing for med school.

Since then my adult life has not followed that path, and hearing her say that her transition into "adulthood" hasn't been as graceful as she thought it would be ....was shocking.

I think as children we think getting older is a badge of honor. But what happens when you get to the point of becoming an adult and you realize it isn't a badge you want at all. You aren't ready to move up to that new level, you aren't ready to leave your old life behind.

As a kid I thought being an adult and having a car were going to be exciting aspects. But with those excitement comes the realization that you have more responsibilities, that your happiness and life are not as simple as it use to be. Morning cartoons and freeze tag are now replaced with college books and loans. And dealing with the shock of it all is scary as hell.

Sometimes I sit in class and look at the young faces around me,and I can't help but think that one day we will be adults. Perhaps not tomorrow, or next week. But there will be a moment in time, when we are filing our taxes, or fixing our children dinner, that we will wonder where time went, and how we got here.

But for now I'd like to enjoy not worrying about those aspects. This girl still has time for her Saturday morning cartoons.

Time to finish homework, damn i have a lot of work to do.

Real Life

Could someone tell me why today I look like I had the craziest night of my entire life?

I look and feel like Danny Devito did on the view(minus being a balding, heavyset,older man. I still love you Danny).

I did go to sleep incredibly late last night, but I woke up feeling like I had gotten hit by a truck. My poor dear eyes even displayed my tiredness, and the day just went downhill from there.

It was like I was sleepwalking the whole day. In and out of sleep and wakeness. I barely listened in class as my Biology professor went on and on about global warming, and then at work I dropped a book on my foot and head. Bumped into more shelves then necessary, and spent two hours shelving books on the wrong floor.

My body can't give up on me yet, I still have a week of classes and then finals week. I'll either have to start drinking coffee in the morning or going to bed a little earlier. If this is what I look and feel like when I get 5 hours of sleep, I'd hate to see how I'd look after a night of limoncello shots. Just saying.

I have three days before I have to turn in my Alice in Wonderland story(including a soundtrack). Surprisingly it is going well. Seeing that I have never finished a story in my life, I look forward to creating an ending for Alice. This Alice is now 23-ish, spunky, quirky, and idealizing Wonderland(sounds like someone I know). I guess what makes writing a passion is the fun in creating something from an idea or a fleeting thought. And from there everything else falls into place. I was listening to a interview by the wonderful Sufjan who related his songwriting to storytelling. That there is this moment when something flutters inside you letting you know that you are on the verge of creating something beautiful. And despite my intense attraction for him(which could cause me to instantly think he I as a genius) I felt an appreciation that I am not the only one's whose process is derived from a a pool of thoughts and whose struggle lies is sorting through the mess to construct something decent.

Hopefully I will finish Alice after my nap. She will have to wait until I get some shut eye.

Today in the library I could not helping thinking about hoarders. In psych class hoarders are describe as people who keep everything, so much that there living spaces are often cluttered with junk. I assume they keep collecting things for fear that they will instantly need it for future use. I once say a documentary on hoarders, and this girl was only like 15. She kept everything from pencils, to gum wrappers, and even a sticker that she dreaded looking at . But she was afraid that if she threw it away she wouldn't be able to use it if a situation arose.

But I was thinking there must a thing like mental hoarders. Perhaps unsuccessfully I am trying to find a common ground with myself. We will call it becoming "congruent". I'm trying to come to happy balance with aspects of myself that I rather try to hide. If I can become comfortable with being silly and goofy, serious and grounded, smart and arty...Then I may be closer to allowing people into my life. I may start allowing the walls down, and letting people see the me I know I am.

But I mentally am like a hoarder. Bad and good experiences from my past reside in the same place. I am crowded with all these useless "boxes" that make it difficult to sift through the rubbage and find myself. Maybe the real issue with hoarders is not that they collect everything, but that they can't decipher what is important to keep and what is not needed to so that they can function, and not remain in a state of becoming cluttered with junk .

Cause I personally know the fear that comes along with having to throw something away. It is the possibility of being unprepared for when you want it back. You know throwing it away means it is forever lost to you, even if it does lighten up the space.

Time to nap then study. OH...and can I just say that pandora has changed my life. Why didn't i find this website sooner, it's like my own personal radio station. It's the greatest thing ever.

Bigger than my Body

Today after a boring biology lecture where my professor talked about cow poo(no seriously) and dragging around work which I usually do on Friday, I headed off to have a meeting with my English professor.

I rarely talk in the class though it is my favorite class. My only form of communication to my professor is through my writing, and on every paper I have written she leaves comments such as"outstanding", "Nice" "I love this thought" . I figured I must be doing something right, as I scanned other people's comment free papers.

But on our last paper she wrote a hefty comment stating that my ideas where great but as usual I was having problems with executing my thoughts. Thus my paper was convoluted and hard to decipher. But what got to me that most was "what happened this time around Ms. Beck???"

I must have stared at that comment for a few moments. What had happened? I didn't know I was in a position where she was expecting more out of me than I put in. She even shortened my name like we had been old pals, what does that mean?

I figured I should at least schedule a meeting to talk with her about the paper and how I can become a better writer. I mean figure if this whole medicine thing doesn't work out, I will take a chance on writing. I could surprise myself with what I could write.

At our meeting she said that she enjoyed my writing the best, but I think at a higher level then I am able to process. She said I have a gift in being able to pick up things in novels, but that expressing them is very hard for me. Like I had an ability to point out the very interesting concept, but I had difficulty in showing it. I wondered why I always hated show and tell in elementary school. I can show but i sure can't tell.

Basically my thoughts are way bigger than I am. And it is difficult to wrap myself around a concept I have fully yet to grasp. It's strange because that is how I feel every day. That my mind is working at a level much bigger than me. She attributed this to a sensitivity that i have which i convey through my writing. I find it interesting that she says it is a talent to have a capacity to conceptualize my thoughts and a novels deeper meaning, and yet I find it a burden. Not so much because I don't like being introspective but because it's exhausting and lonely sometimes.

All in all it was a good meeting and i learned something more about myself.

I have therapy on Wednesday and still sticking with the house theme I am suppose to draw a picture of the boxes that crowd my basement. The last time I went she wanted me to explain the interior of my house. I explained that my house was very well decorated inside, but there are three places which are sacred and no one is really invited into:The basement, my room, and the attic.

While the basement is a place in my house I dread going into because it is dark and scary and has a whole lot of boxes, my room is a place that I can be uninhibited in. It is fun and crazy and I can dance and sing as loud as I want. The attic is where I go for solace, I write and think there. To me the three rooms represent the mind(basement), body(the bedroom) and soul(attic) and because there is disconnection between the three there is a disruption in the way i view myself.

She of course was very interested in the basement and thus asked me to draw up boxes and write what is inside each of them. So far I have just been drawing boxes with things like "dad" "love" "criticism" and "regrets" marked next to them.

Regrets seem to be my biggest box right now, or at least the one taking up all the space. I fear for a 20 year old I have many regrets. But I think my fear of having regrets prevents me from taking chances. Being the one in my family who is suppose to have it all together and stay the straight and narrow path, I fear my regret is that I haven't taken a route all my own. I haven't create my own path to see how differently things could be if I just take a chance.

I think that will be the hardest box to get rid of, because it isn't a box stored with events or consequences of someone else's action; But packed, taped, and stored by me. Because even though the road that I am suppose to take seems safer and more concrete and lined with street lights, there is something magical about the other road. About my vey own road. There is an uncertainty and cloudiness that makes it intriguing. And the problem is that I can see that road from my the one I'm walking, and I can't help but wanting to change routes, just to see where it could take me.

Chain Letter Rebellion

I remember as a kid the stupid lchain etters that use to come around to us students.

Though i am young, my childhood did not consist of writing emails back and forth amongst friends in elementary school. It was a little before the day when everyone had a computer in their household, in our school it was a luxury to use those puppies, especially on Oregon Trail Fridays.

So the way we recieved Chain Letters were through hand. It was sort of Ring-ish, before the creepy girl came crawling out of the tv. The letters found there way through several hands, before landing into your own. And of course when you opened it up the folded piece of paper, what would it say: "Give/Show/Send/Mail this to 7 of your friends and you will have 7 years of good luck. But if you don't send it you will have 7 years of bad luck, your boyfriend will dump you, you will grow a wart, and end up living in van down by the river" okay so it wasn't that dramatic but you get the point.

When i recieved those letters i instantly chucked them in the garbage. Sometimes i wish i could find the first person who sent the letter and shove it in their face, but instead i took my chances on luck, and i haven't grown a wart yet.

The fact is is that i hate chain letters, and with the popularity of everything internet, they have become even easier to send. It is totally frustrating and annoying to open up your email/myspace/facebook yadda yadda yadda account, and see some message starting with "YOU HAVE BEEN HIT..."with another stupid chain letter.

So today as i did my morning facebook check, i saw a stupid chain letter from Mike, stating that i had been hit by the:

PRETTY GIRL TRUCK '""";.., ___.
_..._...______==== ___..., ]
"(@ )'(@ )""""*(@ )(@ )*****(@

"ONCE YOU'VE BEEN HIT YOUR PRETTY MUCH FUCKED BUT YOU HAVE TO HIT 08 PRETTY GIRLS. IF YOU GET HIT AGAIN YOU'LL KNOW YOU'RE REALLY PRETTY! IF YOU BREAK THE CHAIN, YOU'LL HAVE UGLYNESS FOR 10 YEARS LIKE ALL OUR IMITATORS. SO HIT PRETTY GIRLS TO LET THEM KNOW THEY'RE PRETTY AND TO FUCK THEM UP. lol "

I tried so hard not to roll my eyes, but i still groaned and winced and cursed him all to hell. And then wondered "he thinks i'm pretty/" WHAT?!?! Chain letter or not the word pretty is in it which instantly means(in my mind) that he thinks i'm pretty.

I didn't mention the chain letter incident to him in math today, but he was gawking at me like a school boy in love. Ever since i told him about Waldo he has been acting differently towards me...perhaps even a little nice. It's bizarre, in trying not to think irrationally about this friendship i considered the new found niceness is that he is just happy to be around me. I mean who wouldn't be.

But today after the whole pretty girl truck letter, he kept staring at me during math.He kept glaring at me as i wrote down notes, and when i'd look at him he would avert his eyes. And this is not an over exaggeration, I mean seriously kind of creepy. I kept wondering if i had anything in my hair or something. After the stare fest he suggested we have a study session for upcoming math final. I'm thinking: i totally need a person to study with for math this is awesome we should study in the library next Monday or something.

NOOOOO. He wants me to go over his house, on the weekend to study. HMMMM. HMMMMM. HMMMMM.

Perhaps i am just reading the signs wrong, maybe this is what friends do. But me and Mike were never those friends, we were always see you in class/library/rooftop/some place on campus kind of friends. This is new and freaky. DAMN CHAIN LETTER BULL.

In other totally unrelated news i am writing a story for english. It's more of a script/story kind of thing, and i only a week to do it. For the end of the semester project we have to creatively come up with something that represents what we have read in class. At first i was going to do a simple Mix Cd about realism. That then turned into a soundtrack if a novel like Anna Karenina was turned into a movie, this then turned into me coming up with a movie in my mind for realism, thus i am now left with a soundtrack to compose and a movie/short story to write.

I've have decided to do an Adaptation of Alice in Wonderland. Apparently it is in the magical realism genre which we kind of talked about in class. I think it could be fun to explore a now grown up Alice in the city, yearning for her return to Wonderland...until she meets a particular stranger who also says he has been to this magical place and has the key to returning. I'm working out all the details but so far that is all i have got.

One more week of classes, then exams. I don't know want to do with myself. I'm already exhausted by this week and the battle has only just begun.

I wonder as I Wander.

Today in English I learned a new phrase: repetition Compulsion.

English has probably been my best class this semester. My teacher is this hip lady whose brother is some photographer for Vogue, which means she has more coolness because she comes into class with new gadgets her brother sends her.

Any professor who has a MP3 player is automatically deemed cool on some level. I think as kids we get this idea of college professors being older men who wear brown suits, with ugly bow ties, who rant on about some topic or another.

So it's a little shocking when you get to college to see professors who are only a couple of years older than you, dressed in jeans and a shirt, listening to various things on there own iPod. I don't know about anyone else but it is certainly intriguing to me.

My professor is totally like that, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt she talks about smoking in bars discussing some book she is publishing, and in class she acts out scenes from various books as a one woman show. She looks almost like Andie Macdowell , but without the annoying ways. All in all she is pretty awesome, though by my participation in the class she would never know that.

Anyway from reading Shamela to Anna Karenina we have finally landed on the door of Gabriel Marquez's One Hundred years of Solitude to end the semester with. Personally I am completely perplexed reading this book. Everyone has the same name and some girl eats dirt in the book, pretty much after that part I stopped reading and went to spark notes.

But the kids in my class totally get this stuff(or just read the book instead of spark notes), ranting on about symbolism and yadda yadda yadda. There are the mod squad beside me, giggly girls who talk about books I never knew were written, who always have something to say even if it is about nothing. If they weren't so nice, I would totally resent them . There are only a couple of guys in my class, one smart guy named Nick who has a major crush on the girl next to me who just so happened to go to my highschool. It is kind of interesting to watch him drool over her from his seat, always saying something totally poetic in class to win her over. In a cheesy way it is totally sweet, but in a "I don't think you have a chance" way it's kind of sad.

The guy whose music I happened to have the pleasure of listening in my dorm, sits directly across from me a couple of seats down. From time to time we awkwardly glance at each other, but nothing has happened other than that. Not to totally get off the subject of the wicked phrase I just learned, I'm holding on to the fact that I intimidate guys. Perhaps it is the small erotomanic delusion(another phrase I learned) that I have or maybe it is just a fact that I scare them away. I am totally a approachable person, but he even avoids friendly eye contact. Whatever the case I try to stay clear away from him because I fear I make him uncomfortable, and I get uncomfortable with his uncomfortableness.

Anyway back to the phrase.

I mentioned that I have been having wicked dreams lately. The one last night was pretty much the same. Me having an affair with some married dude from a dream I haven't had since I was a teen. Don't ask. Long story.(Really good though, perhaps in a later post I will divulge info). Recently in my life I have noticed that things are occurring the same. I have fallen to same sort of situations(isolation and fear) or friendships(Katherine) or crushes that I don't act on( the list is too long).

I believe that everything we have or encompass are only mirrors of ourselves. And for long time I was wondering why I kept attracting or having friendships with people I feel I would have otherwise avoided. Or why I keep ending up miles away from where I want to be, with a solid group of friends, happiness, and yadda yadda. And of course at this moment I don't know why I have fallen into those same traps, but I think I may have a clue, all because of the phrase repetition compulsion which means:

Something that unsettled us in our lives, that caused an element of surprise because we were unprepared for it. It caused such a disturbance in ones life that there is a compulsion to return to the scene of the trauma in order to create another ending.

The lightbulb totally went off, especially seeing that I had that weird deja vu and train dream the past couple of nights. I seem to put myself in the same situations hoping beyond some hope that I can alter the ending. That things will work out differently. Perhaps I felt rejected by Nicholas(not the English class kid) because he abruptly ended our friendship and my crush with his coldness. So I attach myself to crushing on boys who give that off from the get go. Maybe I hope that they will take notice of me, and things won't end up so isolated as when Nicholas stopped talking to me

Or with friends. Dealing with crazy ex-best friend in High school who had more problems than a lifetime movie. After that ended I was made to feel like I had not supported her decision to be wild and crazy. So now I get friends who have a whole lot of problems hoping that this time I will be able to help out, that it will be apparent that I cared and gave an effort to make them better.

My professor said it's like when you are dating someone and you realized that you have already dated someone just like them. And you don't realize until things start occurring like they did in the past relationship that you have put yourself in this cycle. This cycle that you are hoping will turn out differently and that maybe you could alter.

But maybe the process stops with learning that cycles are never ending for a reason. They aren't suppose to stop flowing, the same scenario always ends up the same because its suppose to. Cycles are suppose to come around full circle. The strength in learning how to break them may just reside in realizing when to step out of one.

But what do I know. I get lost in cycles all the time.

Last Time

So I am back from Thanksgiving break. Surprisingly there were no arguments, weird silence, or burnt food. I think the three of us collectively wanted it to be a good holiday we were quick to stray away from arguments that could come about.

Along with the Thanksgiving snack, sparkly Welch juice, and pie, I seem to have brought back a couple of bad dreams along with some thanksgiving treats.

I woke up three times in the middle of the night from my childish night terrors that have been the focal of my dreams as of late. I mean they aren't terribly terrifying , just un-nerving. And last night I had one of those dreams within a dream within a dream crap. I literally woke up saying "I'm sick of the damn dreams" followed by stubbing my toe on the dresser located next to my bed.

I haven't had a solid good memorable dream in a really long time. I was beginning to worry. Naturally being a dreamer I find solace in escaping into to dream land. I don't know about anyone else, but I know that when my head hits the pillow and the few moments of being in dreamland are very exciting....and rather inspiring escapes.

But last night I had this dream where this guy I probably was dating keep dying over and over again. I mean the dream always started with me waking up and him being right next to me. We do the whole smiley kissy thing, and the events of our day go on. But at the end of the day he always died. I mean always. They were all deaths I felt I could have prevented, but no matter how I tried to save or warn him the ending was always the same. This dream within a dream happened about 3 times, and the last one ended with us just lying in bed, me holding him close, knowing the day had started over again, and look on my face told me I couldn't prevent it. So I just held him close. And then I finally woke up.

WTF. That is not the way to start a day off. At least not in my opinion.

So with my bad dream and stubbed toe I headed off to class very late to start the beginning of the end of this semester. I can't believe it is almost over. I feel like it all just started and now it has come to a close. 2 weeks left of class, one week of exams, Christmas, and then the year is over. And of course I have no accomplished anything I was hoping to.

Year after year I feel like I am waiting for this BIG thing to happen. This big thing that will not make each year like the last. I feel like I so anticipate the big thing that will change my life, that I let the year pass me by, not aware that I have yet to make any steps toward getting out of my routine.

Last week I had a dream about riding a train. Being from the city(via Westchester) our mode of transportations were as followed a) walking b) Bus/cab c) train if you were going upstate. My aunt lives upstate and from time to time we would visit her. Taking a train from Tarrytown all the way up to the country was exciting at the time. Trains stop at every destination, dropping off and allowing people on. The view from a train are the most beautiful of all. I seen more of the east coast from the seat of a train than by any other means.

In this dream I was on a train, and it was making dozens of stops. The view was beautiful, and my seat was pretty comfortable, but I couldn't choose which stop to get off at. So I keep riding, and the train kept going. That's pretty much how I feel at the end of the semester, like I been on this train that keeps going, but I have yet to choose a stop to get off at. So I just continue to ride, watching as the towns pass me by.

Sometimes I feel as if I don't have a direction. Be it with people(defined relationships), school(what I want to do with myself after graduation),myself(who the hell am I and can I accept me). I guess it's a lot different from feeling lost, I don't feel so lost anymore. But I feel overwhelmed with choices and options and consequences to those decisions. I guess relating to the other dream it's this notion that in life there aren't any do overs. Sure there are second chances and open opportunities, but in choosing one over the other you risk losing the rest of the choices.

Or you risk, as I do as the end of this semester, to have done something differently that would have made a difference in the way things were.

I feel I need a push in the right direction. But I fear the push has to come from myself, and maybe I'm not ready to get off the train just yet. The sleeper cart has such a gorgeous view.

My first tough decision to make is whether to go to a concert in Washington DC around the first of February for a concert. Besides Katherine, Marie, and my Mom i have never traveled alone. But the impulsive side in me wants to take this trip so bad. Oh decisions.

Time to study.

Is it Possible....

... to get a turkey hangover...because right about now, i feel like i may just die. I mean like all the food i consumed may just kill me. It was all terribly good, and yummy, and i drank so much sparkly non alcoholic wine and a cup full of real wine, that i think i may just die.

I can't even look at another piece of turkey, stuffing, or pie without my stomach hurting.

At the end of the day me and the chica pictured above remain hidden under the covers, curled up with a good book, waiting until the stomach ache subsides...so we can start on seconds.

Happy Thanksgiving.

ThanksGIVING

I don't understand how in the 7 hours since i have been home i have spent a total of 150 dollars.

WTF?!?!

After spending money on the traditional holiday rentals(Strangers with Candy, Da Vinci Code, and 40 year old virgin. Guess which one my mom picked. Hint: it isn't the Da Vinci Code), i headed to some game store to check out how much a playstation 2 was.

After dealing with an Xbox, i decided to head back to a console i was comfortable with(and which my brother would agree with, cause lets be honest i'm not going to play it that much, but it will occupy his time. Video games are the way to his heart, and to be honest ensures he will be around on Thanksgiving).

150 dollars later, my wallet is a little lighter. I think i can see the flies escaping from my wallet right about now. I am not spending anything else, i don't care if i absolutely feel i need it, i will put it out of my mind and reminder that i work at a job that pays way less than a 20 year old should be making.

But i 'm happy to be home. I left today after my psych class looking at the watch and cute psych guy from the corner of my eye. I wonder why professors drag on class knowing that the last thing we are thinking about is being there. She went on and on about who knows what, then showed a video, and then talk about the video, like anyone cared. When she finally announced we could go the 50 of us who showed up ran out of there faster than a speeding bullet.

My math teacher cancelled class, and i decided to skip out on the other two classes, assuming that i wouldn't be paying much attention anyway, and that no one would show up. I haven't had a sick day yet and used one today to head home.

On the drive home Mike called and wished me a Happy Thanksgiving, and was sorry that i wasn't there to play another Uno game with him before heading home. My mom joked that it was cute, i rolled my eyes but thought it was very nice of him. In a platonic friend way of course.

So here i lay in my favorite spot in my bed, with a cat on one side and another nudging me to rub her head. I suppose it is plesant being home, though the longer and longer i remain away from this place the less familar it becomes to me. The feeling doesn't last long, but i can't help but be aware of it every once in a while.

I am looking forward to the first Thanksgiving i will have on my own. Where i am certain i will burn something, cry out of frustratation in my room, and lack some ingredient that i will go to the corner store trying to retrieve. What would Thanksgiving be without it.

I'm happy to be home though, minus the 150 deficit in my pocket. 2nd to my birthday, Thanksgiving is the best day of the year, christmas comes in a sweet third.

This Fine Social Scene.

I love how I have a paper to write but instead I am blogging, that shows how my priorities are sorted.

A while back I saw Katherine in the library. What a weird awkward moment that was.

It's funny how much has changed in a year. I feel like the same girl but different and I have yet to learn if those differences are good or not. I feel stronger yet vulnerable, stable but on shaky ground, and even a little happier but with a shadow of pain behind it.

I am evaluating myself and the relationships around me constantly, trying to put it all in perspective before bedtime.

My mom use to say that James(Ex boyfriend James) hated silence. He was always making jokes and laughing and making sure that as a family our time was filled up with plenty of noise. She said because in the silence all you have is your thoughts. And your thoughts can be an endless reminder of past regrets.

So upon seeing Katherine, images of what our friendship was popped into my mind,and I could only evaluate what went wrong. Luckily having an almost daily reminder of my life allows me to go back and pinpoint events, but it doesn't stop the doubt that crosses my mind. Of what went wrong, and whose to blame.

What I think is incredibly hard with the demise of that friendship is that every one put me managed to remain friends with her. I mean plain Jane is still friends with her, and even the Amy/Kristin girl is . Perhaps it was me, maybe I over-reacted in letting her go.

Maybe it was my own insecurities in wanting a BFF that led me to drive her crazy ass away.

Because days when I see her hanging around a new group of friends whom she will undoubtedly lose interest in, I can't help but miss being apart of that.

You kind of forget how fun it was being apart of something until you aren't apart of it anymore.

I desperately miss having a best friend. I can feel myself on the telephone when talking to Mike or Marie wishing that our conversations were longer. That they weren't so one sided, where Mike will ask me if I did my math homework so he can copy off of it, and Marie will go on and on about her boyfriend.

We had the worst conversation last week on the phone, where a long awkward pause was the only noise, and then she started talking to her boyfriend while I was still on the phone.

I feel like I am putting things into place, and growing as a person, but I am some how still lacking the only things that I want. Some sort of strong connection to people I would call my friends.

Everyone talks about college as if it is this huge social experience, and I have encountered the complete opposite. I'm afraid that I'll have left this place with greater regrets that I walked into it with.

I mean even when things got really bad with Katherine, I still kind of miss having a place to hang out at. Of being apart of something and someone's life other than my own.

And maybe I am just lucky, maybe I have just avoided the silence of my life as of late. I have been able to avoid having to be swamped with thinking of past regrets all the time. But I learned that you never evade silence, it's always present and lingering, and waiting for you to address it's place in your life.

Right now it's bugging the hell out of me.

Tomorrow I leave for thanksgiving break, and I am too excited. The holidays are beautiful because they are both stressful and splendid. I would say relaxing but that would be a total lie, I expect to spend more money than I want to, eat more than I should, and not study, read or do assignments that need to be done before the end of the semester.

I am ready for this year and semester to be over and done with. I feel like a television show that has hit it's sophomore slump, and I am kind of looking forward to the beginning of next season.

Next season at least will promise more boys, friends, and general classroom antics which I am fond of.

Long time Coming.

After months of listening to the same music in my iPod I have finally updated my once sorry excuse for a Ipod(musically) to a now stunning array of musical treats.

I must be the most indecisive person in the whole entire world, because every new Cd I bought would soon be followed by the statement "I am going to update my iPod today", but I never would, and would listen to another Enya song throughout my day. Thankfully I got some new Cd's recommended to me by wicked awesome friend, and my own picks that I loved, and my ipod was just waiting for me to update.

But it waited. And it waited. (I charged my iPod with a plug in charger,not the regular computer adapter, during this time). Until today, when I became fed up with listening to another Vanessa Carlton song. I wonder why it takes me so long to make a decision. Whatever the case I am happy with finally updating my iPod but I know later on I will miss some of my old songs.

Funny how music holds a special place in your life. I remember listening to Nirvana in the back seat of a car gazing out the window and feeling at one with Kurt Cobain and his lyrics. Or strumming along to my guitar(yes I had a guitar, but I broke the strings five days later and that was the end of my music career) to Joan Osborne, wondering "what if god was one of us", but most importantly I remember listening to Billy Idol and feeling like I could go rule the world with a snarl and a swagger.

But instead I am now sitting in a coffee shop listening to the melodic voice of Sufjan, sitting in a classroom listening to Imogen Heap, and working at my, low paying , job to mellow voice of Fink. Oh how the times have changed.

Today was therapy day. It has been my third session and I already feel like it is working. Sure I am still struggling to make sense of myself and where I am headed, but the path is becoming clearer and surprisingly I am doing much of the work. She is like the flashlight but I am the guide, she doesn't let me get away with ignoring significant details, and I connect the dots. My mood has been better lately, even with this extremely stressful weak, I have come up Okay at the end. A little bit exhausted but not defeated.

I am making more sense of my house. She wanted me to talk about the rooms, and all I could come up with were the rooms no one is allowed in. The basement, my room, and the attic. I figured each of them represent the body, mind, and soul. The basement being the mind, with boxes full of memories and past guilts, my room being the body, this inhibited, fun, functional being, and the attic being the soul a place of comfort and passion.

But I also talked about someone from my past who I do not even think I have mentioned on this blog. He is the bogeyman of my life, who for the most part remains locked inside my head. Sometimes I forget he was even a part of my life. He was simply erased from it, discarded into my box of memories that I have thrown down in the basement in th House of Anxiety. He was step-grandfather, and she thinks he may play a pivotal rule in my anxiety.

We will see what happens with that next time.

Anway

The other day you won't believe who I saw while coming back from the mailbox. With scraggly hair and confused look on his face as he was pointing to which area he and his friend should sit , was no other than...ART BOY.

You might be wondering why I have not mentioned him on this blog lately. Especially since I spent most of last year pinning over the uber sexy hockey player who I envisioned would be the one to pull me up from the storm. After removing him from this pedestal I put him on, I simply put my feelings for him in perspective diminishing my crush for him. And I also realized that making googly eyes does not spell true love.Plus I haven't seen him around campus that much. And he hasn't posted any meetings for the Movie club.

Other than occasionally seeing his face pop up on my facebook friends list he has been so far from my mind, I cannot believe he shrouded it for so long. So while heading to the library the other day, clutching the Cd that had just been mailed to me, I saw him from the corner of my eye. It was weird, we made eye contact for like 5 seconds, and I didn't get butterflies, I didn't feel like there was this...Connection that I so felt last year. He was just some guy, with unruly curly hair, awkward and tall, but no real significance in my life.

And with that I went on my way, back to work distancing myself even further from the idea of the guy I wanted him to be. It's weird, I expect and want love. Love would be nice. (except today when I was at the coffee shop and this couple were making out all over the place. I first saw them outside making out, and then when I went inside they come inside and continue their weird handholding, kissy face bullcrap. I nearly had to clear my throat so they would get the picture that I didn't really want to be a witness to their love fest. HOW RUDE)

I mean who doesn't want someone to think they are special and lovely and the one and only. But I'd like to not be the only one feeling those emotions. And i don't want some crazy dude who works on campus directing those feelings towards me either . I don't really want anything from love at this moment, nothing spectacular or even grand. Maybe just something secure and comfortable. Maybe someone who doesn't technically get my taste in music, and who I think is too into Cspan. Right now as a 20 year old, I'll take silly goofy comfortable dating, over head over heels love. I'll take mix CD's any day to a ring.A pet gerbil to the commitment of a dog. And conversations over the new James Bond over life changing decisions. Head over heels hurts the head(and i'm entirely sure it exist anymore) , and is a little to complicated for me right now.

Plus funny emails over the web always win this girl over than some mushy gushy stuff.

Speaking of, I received a email from a high school friend who I periodically keep in contact with. He was(and still is) hella funny kid from Boston. We bantered throughout highschool about the red sox and Yankees, and other very important things. So I was not surprised when I received a very odd video in the mail the other day that I have posted on my other blog. DO NOT WATCH, if you are at all offended by crude college humor. I apologize right now for my generations definition of humor and the numerous amount of curse words regarding well...Everything . Regardless of the disclaimer though, it may me very glad to know that despite our differences on which state is better, he thought enough of me to send my way.

Time to finish my chemistry homework, then anticipate THANKSGIVING, I am too excited for some real food when I get home. YEAH.