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.