The Day Before....

Today isn't even my birthday and yet i felt all the love today. It was amazing.

I woke up today with a test on my mind, headache, and missing a pair of very awesome pants.

So i headed to class with my not so awesome jeans, big t-shirt and...an European Lit exam on my mind.

The European lit test wasn't as easy as i thought it was going to be. I hate MC and "identify this quote" kind of questions, cause it's most likely that i am going to guess on both MC and ID, which is exactly what i did.

The short answers were detailed, but i did really well on those so maybe I'll get a B after all. As i go to hand in my test nervous young professor(who was reading and writing on something all through test) calls my name. I didn't hear him the first time, so he said it again. He said he finally answered the email i sent him this Saturday, and that "yadda yadda yadda i'm a flipping genius and that he wants to have my kids".

Okay he didn't say that but he could of. He did say that i was smart, but that he wishes i would ask these questioning DURING class(not that he has a problem with me sending him emails), we whispered for a few moments over the key points in my email and then he said

Mr. G: "I especially think this statement is true"

i thought he was talking about something in my email so like a dork i was like

ME: This paragraph (placing my finger to something i had written)

he placed his finger to something he had scribbled at the end of the page

Mr G: No this one

What i didn't know was that the thing he was working and scribbling on during the test was MY email, and one of the things he wrote was "You have a real future in this field: You ask great and imaginative questions"

WTF!!!!!

I laughed it off and then told him i would send him some questions once i get an idea of what i am going to write my paper on. I said thank you, looked JOSH in the face and left the room.

The day only got better from there. Mike wasn't a complete douche bag, i got a free sandwich and T-shirt because i volunteered for 20 minutes(meaning Mike volunteered and got credit along with him), i also got candy.

Then at work, i got a nice early birthday card(because i don't work Thursday's, which means i don't work on my birthday) from my co-workers, plus several "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" from them. It was pretty nice. Even if today isn't my birthday. I sure felt like it.

I feel extremely special on this birthday. Like i have hit my first birthday milestone. Turning 16 and 18 were kid stuff, but there is something about 21 that's like "I've been alive 21 years...TAKE THAT PRETEENS!"


I keep waiting for the day when i won't be so enthused about my Bday, but so far today isn't that day. I walked around with my huge birthday box willing to tell anyone who was anyone that though today isn't my birthday, tomorrow is.

The highlight of the day was totally my English teacher writing that comment though. It makes me wonder why i resist becoming a writer, when it's apparently something i have a knack for. I was thinking about writing and that sometimes it feels like i am in relationship with it, and that I'm not fully willing to let myself be totally comfortable with it(in the "this is what i am going to do for the rest of my life" kind of way). I'll have to expand on that tomorrow perhaps, because right now i have a Organic test to study for, and lets just say it's going to be rough.

and in case i don't get to this here blog tomorrow( because I've passed out from heavy pizza munching and candy)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. MARCH 1ST!!!! BIG 21!!!!!

Why i hate Roommates

The reason i hate roommates is because on the night before a big exam my stupid roommate decides to have a get together with her friends.

Not just one friend, not even two friends, but a least 5 very loud, inconsiderate douches who are talking rather loudly at 12am.

I don't understand it. I totally understand that part of the college means having a blast with friends, but another part of it is being considerate to your other roommates who potentially have test going on

If i wasn't so passive aggressive, i would storm out of this room and tell them rather politely to "shut the F*ck up"but because i have no balls and do not want to cause rift between my roommates i lie here typing away on my computer, holding back my frustrations.

Me and Nietzsche have a long night together.

Somebody help me.

Accidently on Purpose

My head hurts really bad.

I had a lab today and we messed with some weird chemicals that i may or may not have totally inhaled. Sure they say don't inhale the stuff, but there are about 30 students squeezed into a small lab room, handling, dropping, spilling waste everyday...you can't help but inhale some of the stuff accidentally when it's every where around you. Needless to say i am feeling very sick, and am cursing the fact that i have three exams this week.

I had been working on my nerves for this coming week because i had planned to say Hi to Music Boy. I had planned to go to the Amnesty International meeting, i had planned a lot of things, but putting all sorry excuses aside i have an Ochem, Theory and European Lit exam, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and when i haven't been camped out in the library i have been passed out in my bed. My theory professor keeps remarking on how hard his tests are, and because he doesn't seem like a man who lies i have been studying like no ones business.

Amnesty meeting...totally not attending, can't do it, i don't fail my test to say hi to a boy who i may or may not even be crushin on. So i instead was planning a little "bump into him while i walk" scheme

I use to do when i was younger. Being extraordinarily clumsy has it perks. You bump into someone, do the quick and cute conversation about how clumsy i am, flash a winning smile and...KAZAAM...i have started a conversation.

Me and Music Boy always kind of run into each other in the morning. It's like that stupid Howie Day Song "You and i Collide"...except thus far there has been no collision. Only misses. So i was thinking, if i happen to bump into to Music Boy ,well then I'd have to say something, even if it was "sorry I'm a clumsy fool". The plan was error proof. I would leave my English class as i had always done, equipped with a book that i would read while i was walking, i would be so immersed in the book that i would "not" notice Music boy as he runs into me(or vice versa).

As soon as i would bump into him, dropping book, i would say something like:

Me: this is why i don't read and walk at the same time, not a talent i have acquired i guess.

He would say something brief, i would smile, and then yadda yadda yadda i would have said something to him and at least made a very cute if not awkward impression.

What i wasn't counting on was my English teacher going over the 50 minutes we are suppose to have. I bolted from the room, book in hand, iPod dangling on the ground and ran towards the center of campus. I don't even think the book was upright, as i was literally dropping everything around me.

Music boy....no where in sight. I put my book in my book bag and trudge along to work, where who come strolling my way...you guessed it Music Boy. He was late i was early(from the running apparently) and my chance was gone.

F*cking English.

maybe i should try a new technique other than one i mastered when i was 12. I don't see how it worked then, it sure as hell didn't work today.

A good old "hello" will have to do.

Time to study. Nietzsche is calling me.

Invitation:

I got invited to a work related get together.

While studying for Ochem in the library a kid from work told me about a game party they hold every month and that i was welcomed to come.

Apparently a bunch of people from work play Halo in a big meeting room once a month. A total blast i hear.

And though i had to decline because i have 3 (YES 3) TESTS to study for, i was just happy that i was invited to go. ME INVITED to GO.

They will be having another game party next month, and though I'm only good at cheering for those who play games (it was all i was allowed to do when i was younger. Watch my cousins and brother play as i cheered on from the sidelines), i wouldn't mind trying my hand at it. How hard can Halo be?

They Like Me, THEY REALLY LIKE ME

Time to study...seriously.

W is for WHORRIBLE.

I am constantly wearing a scarlet letter.

I have never read the book but i did see the movie with Demi Moore and Gary Oldman( i know...BAD) .

The short boy and his short girlfriend are making me feel like the other woman. I do not believe it is intentional, but i can't help but feel like a scuzzy whore when i walk past him and his fiance who suddenly get really quiet and avert their eyes.

He now only acknowledges my existence when she isn't their. This coldness is coming from the kid who only months earlier was hugging me in an aisle because he said i looked huggable. Now i not only get the cold shoulder but a glare that is causing me to dislike him and his uber nice girlfriend.

But in good news: William(the kid who works with me, the one i described as smelling like garbage) said he hasn't talked to me in long while and missed that. Like he actually wants to talk to me. ME. He wants too talk to me about things. WTF. I smiled, and gave him some cereal from my secret stash. I must work on talking to him, because clearly he likes talking to me.


Today i went to therapy. It's been a while since my last visit(or should i say confession). I must say i am learning a lot at therapy, i can even see the changes in my attitude and demeanor. As soon as i walk into her room i am like "OMG!!! You won't believe the week i had...", it wasn't until a couple of days ago that i began realize that i am not really that anxious anymore( ignore the art boy entry for the time being). I mean not in the "I'm drowning please get me out" way.

With anxiety not being such a focal point in my life I'm trying to find myself after being in it's shadow for so long. But now I am not merely awkward because i fear saying something stupid, but also a little awkward because well...i don't know how to interact with the people i have been hiding from for so long.

I remember last year i wrote a lot about feeling disconnected from people. But i never really realized apart of those disconnections were because of me. Apart of me doesn't get too close to anyone, i stay a fair distance away, looking on wanting to be apart of the crowd, but not feeling adequate enough to join them.

My whole life i have escaped things. Leaving situations and people before seeing what the outcome would be. Sometimes i feel like i am use to leaving in the middle of an important game, or movie. I never find out what happened, who won, who lost, and i don't get to witness any great moments in between. I'm just moving on to a new game, with the old one fresh on my mind, yearning to find out what happened.

That is my way with people. I'm good with introductions, i give a little bit of myself, and then retreat, not even waiting to see what could happened if i stayed awhile. My disconnections in large part are coming from me. I turn people away before the good stuff happens.

My therapists says it's because I'm afraid. Afraid of the process, the middle part, because the middel part of the game is where we are most vulnerable, when we are at our greatest risk. And maybe that's why i always leave before the good things happen. Before i can see the outcome, because that is where it matters the most, where the risks are high.

But I'm sick of walking around with my scarlet letters. I'm sick of being Ashamed, Embarrassed, and down right Afraid of being who i am. I desperately want connections, because we all need them. It's apart of the process, and for once I'm beginning to think i deserve the good things. I deserve them.

Scarlett letter for today:

W for Worthy

The Return...

....OF ART BOY!!!

I couldn't believe it myself when i came strolling out an aisle with cereal shoved in my mouth. and saw the beautiful face before me.

I almost chocked on my damn cereal, tripped over my cart, and fainted...all at once when i saw him.

He was so close to me, it was unbearable. He was talking with one of his friends, leaning against the desk, looking as hot as ever.

I hyperventilated. My heart was racing. My palms were sweaty.

He was messy and gorgeous and...he was ART BOY.

Oh...ART BOY.

Damn ART BOY.

After wiping up my drool i strutted past him, and then collapsed behind a stack of books.

I'm a dork.

In Escrow...Again

My mom called me to tell me her trip is not going so well. She had hyped up everyone and every detail ( so that's where i get it from ) so much that those ideals could not hold up to her expectations.

Old friends are just that...new haircuts, added or lost weight, with new drama

Family...still doing as they have always done. My uncle is still a drunk, My dad is still in love with her, My aunt dealing with a teenager and a baby.

Needless to say she is ready to come home. Home? did I just call this place home? I spent so many years being angry with this place, that i hadn't realize it was slowly becoming a home. My mother didn't realize this either. But after a horrible date with the "can do no wrong" James, she has changed her mind. Changing mine along the way.

I am beginning to close up shop at that place that i call home. I'm packing the boxes of memories and "should of, could of," and am ready to move on. Its kind of liberating to write that, not as scary as i imagined it to be. Saying goodbye only allows me to usher in something else, something full of possibilities.

I always imagined that when we moved it was us who were left behind. I always felt bad returning because everything around me was new and different. But i hadn't realized until today was the we had changed also. We had grown and moved in different directions. And though my past will always be something i look fondly on, it isn't something i can return to.

This new fond...closure makes me feel a little brave about the future.

Even brave enough to make eye contact with Music Boy today as he nearly ran me off the sidewalk as i was freezing my butt off.

Scenario: Due to a mix up i ended up taking the wrong English class this semester. I have to take English Lit II and English lit I, i accidentally am in the English Lit II class though i haven't taken the first one yet. I mean it's not like it matters but i usually like taking 1 before 2.

If i would have taken 1 this semester i would have had another class with Music boy( and i wouldn't have to wake up at 6:30 everyday. It sucks). Other than listening to his music everyday i don't really get to see him as much. I don't know whether i like him or just want to be his friend, whatever the case when i do see him i get nervous and giddy( yes..giddy), but not in the art boy kind of way.

The only time i really get to see him is when i am leaving my class, and he is well...walking to it. Its been like this for the last 4 weeks, we cross paths at the same intersection, i avert eyes, scurry, and then curse anxiety for the whore that it is.

But today was extremely cold. I mean teeth chattering, finger numbing, nose dripping cold, and i was wearing a light jacket. So as i was walking i saw Music Boy heading straight towards me. I couldn't even turn the corner and head in another direction...it was just too cold. So instead we nearly collided doing the awkward Superbowl Shuffle trying not to knock each other over. Which led to eye contact and a smile!!!!!

Next week i AM going to the Amnesty Meeting(which he ,and apparently me, is in ) and I am going to say something to him. What that something is I don't know. Am i nervous...Yes. But hopefully this "I can conquer the world" feeling will carry out into next week, as i attempt to make Friends(or at least an acquaintance ) with him.

I would like to acquaint myself with him.

Or at least get past "HEY!"

Jesus my heart is pounding just thinking about it.

But i'm feeling a little brave...a little

Oh and my birthday is next Thursday. the BIG 21.

Burrito Time.

A Bitter Song

For the first time since we have moved my mom has ventured back home..Alone.

Every year we head back to Westchester to visit friends and family. It's kind of torturous to go home every year to just leave it again. It feels like we are leaving permanently for the first time over and over again, and i usually get very pissed while packing up my clothes on our final day in Westchester knowing that we are returning to the very place that i feel has beaten me down these last couple of years.

Our first trip back was surreal, we had expected home would be as we had left it, but we realized how much everything had changed around us, and ultimately how much we had changed along the way. I tried endlessly to snap a million pictures of everything that had meant something to me as a child, but realized that there was too much and that it couldn't make up for not being there.

But this year i was unable to make the trip(because of school) and my mom ventured by herself without me and Morg by her side. She called me before she headed on her way and told me how sad she was that i wasn't with her "it's kind of lonely traveling by yourself" she said on the message she left me. And i hadn't realize how lonely i would feel in being left behind or that she would have to experience the memory of being home by herself.

As a kid we moved around a lot, or at least what i consider as being a lot. My mom left my dad in the middle of the night and we never looked back. We moved in with my grandmother for several years, than to New Rochelle for several years, to where we live now for several years. Sometimes i feel like we are always on the run, escaping something bigger and scarier than we could ever imagine, and i have sort of learned never to look back, that you always have to keep moving, because looking back only slows you down.

I think this constant moving never really makes you feel settled as a human being. I kind of always have one foot out the door with bags packed ready to go when the time is right.See that was thing when i was a kid i always remember leaving right when i was getting comfortable. When i began to develop friends, or when i began developing crushes. Just when they seem to be going well, we'd pack up suddenly and leave, and what always lingered was what could have been.

When we return home, when we return to the school ground, corner stores and old neighbors i never really realized that what i was missing about home wasn't the built memories and faces, but all that we had left in our past when we escaped it.

Sometimes i feel like we are returning to this unfinished sort of home. We are returning to something we hastily abandoned; door and windows are wide open, beds unmade, tv still on, and fleeting presence caught in time like a snap shot...this unresolved mess that makes it hard to gain closure with it.

Is it sad that my constant memory as a child is being reminded to never look back. That i have learned to never get close because i will just have to leave.The cab ride that night that drove my mom, brother and I to safety where i sat in her lap never turning back, the car ride away from my grandmothers which was more like a fun ride than a well deserved goodbye, and finally the biggest trip of all in which my half hearted goodbye was in due part because we didn't know what awaited us so far away.

Perhaps being so wrapped up in my childhood home has nothing to do about the sweet memories it produces, but rather the memories i feel i never got to develop. And every time i go back, it isn't for some reminder that my home exists. That there was a time i attended I.E. Young Middle School, played at 5 Island Park, or that I kissed my friend Jason near the tree at the park across from our house( i was 7 it doesn't count as a first kiss) .

Maybe returning for me is a way for me to finally close the windows and doors i leave open for my return. To ask my home for forgiveness in abandoning it so hastily, for never really saying goodbye.

I'm kind of sad i didn't get to do that this year. This goodbye is well overdue.

Downtrodden

I hate that people wear me out.

It's a problem i have always had. Perhaps i get too overwhelmed with people. Their different perspectives, views, actions and behaviors, sometimes i can rarely be around a group of people for too long before i literally just get exhausted. Physically. My body is wore out from absorbing the interactions around me.

I've been working on the whole "being social" thing. And everyone is right... with practice it just becomes easier. A hey there, soon turns into "did you understand the homework" to "see you later".

I'm not really getting any closer to people than the on the surface conversation, but it's better than nothing these days. But I'm beginning to worry that maybe i just cant...connect to people. It's a bizarre notion i know, even i sometimes reread my entries and go "well surely other people must feel the same way. There are people who are just like me". But i wonder why my relationships with people aren't deeper than I'd like them to be. And then i realize it may be because I'm completely exhausted around them because i am faced with what i wish to receive and give in relationships.

I want to absorb every part of a conversation, not in a creepy way, but so that people know that i am paying attention. I am a way better listener than i am talker because i feel like i so badly want to be wanted that i let people divulge whole aspects of themselves to me. In turn i am not able take it all in all at once, and i have become exhausted these last couple of days talking to people.

People are so complex. I once read that our greatest need was to be understood. Maybe that is why we seek the comfort of friends and family. Because there are days when we feel so misunderstood we just need someone to remind us that we aren't.

But the closer i get to interacting with people, the more i feel misunderstood. I feel like i just don't belong. Like I'm trying to place a piece of the puzzle into the the wrong spot. I feel exhausted and inadequate, and...lost.

Some days i wonder what i am working towards. What do i want from people? I want security and love...humor and comfort...and probably above all understanding. But just getting to that point with people is proving rather difficult, i can feel myself shutting down before i get to close. I guess what i am starting to realize that if i get exhausted with people so easily, maybe they will get exhausted with me.

I'm fearful of getting to close only to be left behind.

I hate Thursdays(and i hate Organic Chemistry). Time to eat some girl scout cookies.

Happy Valen-tombs- Day

Every year i wake up saying "Happy Valen-tombs-Day". It's the first thing i say in the morning even though i kind of like this "day of Love". Surprisingly Valentines is my not my least favorite holiday, you'd think all the signs of love (kissing, hand holding couples) would have driven me over the edge these past couple of years, but it hasn't at all made me bitter.

I don't really see Valentines day as some day where couples rejoice. For me it's just another day, where i get to be in love with the idea of love. Love in general is a really interesting thing. It's odd and awkward and not at all something I'm comfortable with, but the idea of it is pleasing. The idea that someone one day will me hard enough to celebrate a cheesy holiday. Not because because he has to or wants to, but because he knows that any day just to show me how much he loves me is worth celebrating, be it Valentines or Easter.

Regardless of my ambivalent feelings toward Valentines day... it is quite a cheesy Holiday. I mean Hallmark is racking up in sales with their lame cards(wow i just turned a little bitter).

At my school there are these boys from some church who stand around campus handing out carnations to all the ladies. Since freshman year i have received these awful flowers with the message "Jesus Love You this Valentines day". ????? Alright, I'm glad Jesus loves me, but i don't really want a flower that i now have to walk around with the whole day amongst a million other girls with the same flower.

So after opening my Valentines gift my mom left me on Saturday(candy candy candy), i headed out onto the COLD streets avoiding the flower givers at all cost. it was tough i was dodging and ducking and taking long routes to avoid them. But i managed to avoid getting a flower shoved in my face all, and that's almost an impossible thing to do.

I sent an email to my teacher again this weekend. I plan on sending him a question every 2 weeks so he knows that i am paying attention and that i get participation points. The last time i sent him an email i had to experience him reading it out in front of the whole class. I almost died. But, i figured that if keep sending him emails the worst that could happen was that he would read it in front of the class. So this weekend i made an effort to come up with a question though i didn't have one on my mind.

After i came up with one, i sent the email and expected on Monday(because he hadn't emailed me back) that he would say something in class. But to my surprise(and disappointment) he didn't say anything. He didn't even talk about the poem i had a question about. I was pretty bummed because i thought that perhaps my question was too vague. So needless to say i was not expecting to hear him call my name when class ended today.

I was packing up my stuff when i heard a very soft voice say "Beckett". I looked up to see no other than my "I don't smoke, drink, and i live on a farm" professor suddenly look like a nervous undergrad. I at first thought i was in trouble...because i always assume when a professors tone gets serious than clearly trouble has caused it.

So i headed up to the desk a little nervous as he pulled some papers from his briefcase. In his hand was the email that i wrote him and he went on to say "this is some really smart stuff"

WTF?

He went on to tell me that i was right on with the way i was reading poetry, and that i should write my paper(due at the end of the semester) on what i had theorized. He seemed generally interested in what i had written and what i had to say. It wasn't a long conversation but it was pretty awesome. I have never had a professor call me after class to TALK.

It was highly intimate to be lingering after class with him talking about my writing which is of course is very intimate to me. He said he will bring up what i wrote on Friday and that i could email him a rough draft before turning anything in.

The cute teacher who one girl dresses up for, thinks I'M smart. He thinks i'm smart. He knows my name and he thinks i'm smart. Take that Josh(i'm sorry i just got bitter again)

After this small boost to my confidence i headed off to work. Since Shorts Boys fiance started working there he's been pretty rude to me. His once "hey whats up" has now become a grunt. Like a "Mmm Hmm". It's the most annoying noise ever, and makes me feel like a skank. I don't know why but it just does. His fiance though is very nice in a meek sort of way. As soon as i opened the door to the office she was right there. I was very polite, offered her some candy, laughed about something and then went on my way.

The whole day there was awkward tension between him towards me. As soon as i came around to put some books on my cart he would leave never staying in the same vicinity as me for long periods of time. I feel like i've done something wrong and he's taking it out on me.

After math class it was the same way. He barely said anything to me and every time i walked near him or his fiance they would get really silent. He would wait until i left to say something to her and i felt even more like a whore. I don't know why.

I ignored his coldness trying to not let it get to me, even though it did.

Then after shelving some books and daydreaming i headed back to the office where i talked to my co-workers for 10 minutes. Of course i wasn't planning on staying after and talking until Shawn(kid i work with, kind of hot) asked me to stay and talk with them for a while.

I think my problem with talking to people is that i am not clear if they actually want to talk to me. Once someone makes it apparent that they want to talk to me (like saying "hey Beckett stay and talk) i am totally comfortable and laughing around them.

I have this sense that i not interesting to be around. That people possibly can't want to talk to me. So i don't make an effort to even start up a conversation. I kind of wait for cues that i am wanted before i complete allow myself to be me.

It's funny how much self esteem i feel i have only to realize that i don't have that much at all.I feel like i need to reminded that i am okay or i will retreat to where no one can question if I am okay.

But i'm working on it. And for 10 minutes after work i seemed to be doing an okay job of that.

My Valentines wasn't that bad. I mean sure there wasn't any declarations of love from a secret admirer, or even a smile from a certain crush. But i feel okay about today. I feel okay.

Happy Valentines day.

All the Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands.

This weekend i intended to wallow in indecisiveness. I was planning it, had my John Mayer downloads all ready for the weekend of crying into a pillow.

But that plan was soon put into the back burner when i remembered that my mom was coming on Saturday to bring me some Valentine goodies. This Thursday she is heading to NYC for a week long visit. This is the first time she has traveled without my brother and I and she is a little freaked out.

So perhaps to ease her uneasiness she decided to come and spend the WHOLE Saturday with me. Morg has been driving her crazy, work has been driving her crazy, and the cats have been peeing on her clothes...needless to say she needed a break from being at home.

After Thursday i was pretty much out of it. My mind was running a million and one things, and none of them really seemed to make any sense. Regardless i was pretty excited when she showed up. Prozac or anything of that matter was far from my mind, and for once i was just happy to be...well me.

It was generally a really good weekend. I got free food, clothes, and a Valentines Day box which cannot be opened until Wednesday.

I of course have been thinking about this Prozac thing a lot. The mere mention of Prozac reminds me of the movie Prozac Nation(based on the book) starring Christina Ricci. So instantly i don't have the best image of the drug planted in my head. I mean i know i shouldn't get my Prozac information from a movie, but I'm just saying it's my real first memory of seeing rather than hearing what Prozac was.

I have yet to wrap my mind about taking Prozac. Continuing my very Pro and Con thinking i have been trying to find middle ground with my decision. Perhaps trying Prozac will make me my attempts to overcome anxiety a little easier. I mean a lot of people take medication and they aren't freaky smiley happy people walking down the street. A drug cannot simply change who i am, and if all else fails i can just stop taking the drugs.

OR.

I could totally freak out on them. The woman spoke of increased Anxiety, insomnia, and even a rash. What happens if i can't write on them. If everything suddenly becomes clear what will be the fun of writing about how i overcome them. I can't even take an aspirin without feeling weird, what could something like Prozac do to me.

See...I'm clearly doing black and white thinking and not finding a gray.

The comments Thursday helped a lot. Each comment made me think more and more about my the prospect of taking medication. And it also lessened my worries about Prozac and my own ability to make a decsion right for me(thanks =) )

But i guess my greatest fear is that though i have social anxiety i don't feel like i need the drugs to make it easier. I have always been a person who has wholeheartedly tried to do something on my own before ever asking for help. I just have always believed that if something came in my way, i would be able to overcome it. So this whole issue with Prozac makes me feel as if...I hadn't given it a 110% to work on my issues.

I believe that medication works. And a part of me thinks that it would also help me.

But the other part, probably the most important part is unsure.

With my birthday approaching i am getting quite nostalgic these days. Luckily my nostalgia is not in the "wow i want to go back home and relieve those days" but more in a "wow i really appreciate the 21 years of my life" It's been an uphill battle and in the past 5 years it has been my hardest battle yet. But there are days when i feel like "i can do this" when i look into the mirror and see and feel like the girl i believe i once was.

I was an energetic kid, with a loud laugh, and scrapped knees. I dressed extremely tacky wearing mismatched shoes and head bands for every color. I rocked converses, and played with best of them. I was carefree, a little shy, but full of life.

And through the process of chipping away the layers of the anxiety that has covered me for so long, i am managing to see that that girl is still there. When anxiety isn't there i am this laughing, appreciative, not so antsy girl. I make people laugh, i am comfortable in my own skin, and though my mind still works a mile a minute i am kind of use to it, and it has kind of help in some ways with my writing.

I'm not feeling so down in the dump these days, I'm not seconds away from panic attacks, and when i do get the nerve to talk to people i can do it. I'm actually pretty charming and warm towards those i chose to interact with. It's just those small steps toward getting to that point which is difficult, which i when i really get nervous but which i am relentlessly working on.

I don't know if Prozac is my answer. I don't know that it would help(and grant it I don't know if it wouldn't) but i do know that right now, today, i am not in a high state of anxiety that i need something to ease it. I believe a year ago i probably would have needed it, it would have helped me deal with things and people very differently than i did.

But as of today and this minute i don't know if it will do any good or harm to me. I was so ready for it 2 weeks ago when it was brought up during my session, i was hoping that it would some quick fix to whatever i was going through. But my own nervousness about it, makes me question taking it.

I was always been one who loves going through the process. For me writing is a process, that's why i like doing it so much. I get to sort the mess, find truth and honesty in what i find, and from that i discover more about myself than i could have ever imagined. Perhaps that is the route i am taking with life. I am sorting through the mess one step at a time. I am searching for the comfortable me and with that trying to increase the anxiety.

I what i have realized is that i am comfortable with the process. With the tension, with the sorting through the mess, it gives me purpose, it gives me insight, it makes me who i am.

And though i now taking medication won't take that away from, i can't risk losing the fun of the process. I never realized how much it has allowed me to grow. It has given me bad days, tense days, and lonely days. But a part of that makes me me. Apart of that is special because i have grown with it.

I want to get better, but at a rate i am comfortable with. I kind of want to get better by going through the struggle, by having a little road blocks in my way, it's made me who i am. I couldn't imagine it going away or becoming any easier.

And for now that process does not include Prozac.

I'd just like to see how far i can go without for a while.

I feel like i have gotten so far without it, climbing over more mountains and hills than ever before. And because i constantly like to push myself, i figure I should just keep doing what i am doing because it's gotten me this far.

But the moment it because a little harder than i can bear, the moment where i need something to lessen the pain, i can always get a prescription, it will always be there.

Right?

Right.

Time to study or watch TV i haven't decided yet.

Beckett

P.S. The grammy's was amazing last night and i have decided to have an affair with Justin Timberlake. Sufjan will just have to forgive me.

Prozac Nation

I've been prescribed Prozac.

After an hour long interview going over every aspect of my life, i was handed a piece of paper with the nicely scribbled words of the drug that is suppose to make it all easier.

But despite her comforting reassurances and tales from her own bouts of anxiety i was and still am not convinced this what i want to do, or take.

Perhaps medication is just not for me.

I just don't think i can do it.

I just want to be comfortable in my skin again.

I'm beginning to doubt if i can do that.

For Love or Money

Jesus Christ!

Some days i feel like i am one of those dating shows. Particularly when it comes to my major(sorry if you thought this was going to be a boy post).

I seem to be asking that question a lot these days. FOR LOVE OR MONEY?

Cause lets be honest, no matter how much i LOVE writing, it ain't really a money maker unless...well...i write a really hot profitable screenplay in the next couple of years.

Today i embarked on round 2 of changing my major. And unlike last year where i felt confidant that psychology was going to be the shit(oh how quickly that changed), there were no flashing lights as i walked in to change my major saying "RIGHT THIS WAY. YOUR PATH STARTS HERE." I was kind of hoping for that.

Instead i sat down for what was like 2 minutes, was handed a piece of paper, and then it was over. Just like that my major was changed. No long process, no "can you answer any of my concerns with changing my major", none of that. I was simply handed a paper and ushered out the door.

I then had to make my way over to the English department to give someone my folder. As soon as i hit the lobby i came face to face with my English teacher from last semester. The one who unknowingly made this decision a little easier for me. She liked my writing, she said i had a sensitivity, she liked me. So i was kind of happy to see her. As soon as i said hi, three other people crowded the small lobby and i had to do the whole "talking in between someones head" thing.

She asked me how i was doing and the first thing i said back to her was that i had decided to change my major to English.

Her reaction wasn't as i had imagined it. She kind of had this shocked look on her face, kind of like "WTF". After her initial shock she said "what happened to being the doctor who reads literary works to her patients."

Me: I'm still working on that, just keeping my options open.
Teacher: Yeah because there are big bucks rolling for a person with an English degree

?????

It's not that i hadn't heard that comment before, but i wasn't expecting such pessimism from her. Perhaps i wanted something. Perhaps i wanted to hear "You have the talent to be a really good writer Beckett, mention me in your first book" or some crap like that.

After that, the three people in the lobby went back and forth about how much a BIOLOGY major makes(note: this was also after my English professor went on for 20 minutes talking about how shitty English degrees are)

So after getting off the elevator, standing completely alone holding a now very limp transcript reflecting my very deflated mood, i handed some lady my transcript, ran out of the building so quickly right into the arms of the biology department for solace and comfort.

I have no idea what the hell i am doing. I mean NONE. And yes i am only 20 years old, and yes i am not suppose to have it all figured out at such a young age, but still...i am very torn.

Writing is something that i love doing. It is me. If someone said today "Beckett you are never allowed to write anything creative anymore" i wouldn't know what my life would stand for. It's like my sanity, it's like my LIFE.

But...I know the struggles of having to struggle. I've seen it my whole life. Perhaps saying that i would love spending my whole life creating things, creating stories and works that people can connect too...is childish. Because the reality is who knows if it will carry me far. Who knows if i am being too unrealistic in believing it will.

Perhaps biology creates more of a stable ground. Will it be fulfilling? I don't know. Is it my path? I'm pretty sure it's not. But it isn't founded on shaky ground, even if the person standing on it is pretty clumsy on her feet.

I don't know what i am going to do. I wish there was an easy button i could push, and it would give me some insight on who is it I AM. What is my path. Cause right now i am in a ditch struggling to climb my way out. I hope i don't stay down here for too long, i was just getting to use to strolling through the park.

I think the real problem is i have always leaned to the Love part of the Love or Money dilemma. And that scares me because Love is hard and difficult and it hurts.

It's a John Mayer day. Surely that can't be good. I feel cocoa, stuffed animals, and comfort food in my near future to soothe my aching...mind/heart/being.

Trust me after a couple of days of this feeling it can get a little sickening. Crying into a pillow with John Mayer blasting from my computer reminds me too much of highschool.

Why can't i be 6 again?

Competition.

I have always kind of had something against the kid in class who tries really hard to suck up to the teacher.

You can spot these students a mile away because they come to class very neatly dressed, sitting right in the front with their trapper keeper(god how i miss those things), and pencil holder.

As soon as i spot them in my class, i brace myself for the long semester ahead of me full of annoying hand raising, unintelligent comments, and the "I'm better than everyone else" smile they get when the answer something remotely right.

I probably have such an aversion to them because it's against everything i am as a student. I mean i know i should talk more...okay...i know i should TALK in class, i know i should show my teachers that i care but I've never been one to bring my teacher an apple or laugh at a lame joke just so i can be on their good side.

There are a couple of them in my class this semester. In Organic Chem, this dude raises his hands so much i almost threw my pencil at him. He is really hyper, moving around in his seat all them time, and i think he may have ADD. Regardless he is still pretty annoying. Case in Point: We have study sections for our Organic Chem class. we meet once a week with about 30 students in a classroom where the TA will go over what may have been confusing in class. We have a quiz every week in this class, but sometimes our TA goes on and on about who knows what, and time will be out before he can give it to us.

This was almost the case on Thursday. I looked at my watch with glee as i saw that we have only 8 minutes left and he was still talking. I put down my pencil, dazed off, scribble some pictures knowing that as long as no one said anything we would not have to take the quiz.

All of a sudden that annoying voice 2 rows over goes "YOU HAVE LIKE 6 MINUTES LEFT. WE HAVE TO TAKE THE QUIZ." I think the whole room did a collective groan, then rolled our eyes, as he sat there smiling. I once again almost threw my pencil at him.

I think my problem with suck ups is that they make it a little harder for the rest of us...particularly me...to make some sort impression on my professor. If everyone else is running up to them with cupcakes/flowers/and their virginity as gifts...who going to remember the quiet girl who writes well. Well no one. I don't suck up but professors generally like me when they get to know me. The suck ups make that a little hard though. I think they are ruining the education system.

Another case in point: JOSH.

I don't know why all the Josh's i have met have been extremely good at English. My English class a year ago had the Jesus Dude(whose name was Josh) who even had me under his spell. And now i have another Josh to deal with . The thing i liked about Jesus Dude was even though he knew EVERYTHING, he was absolutely humble and cool. I mean there was no cocky bone in his body as he answered a question. To me they seemed sincere and honest.

This Josh is the total opposite. He dresses up to class EVERYDAY. I mean there isn't a wrinkle in his clothing, he doesn't wear sneakers he wears this leather shoes. His hair doesn't move because it's perfectly constructed to stay just as he set it.

He has a highlighter, pencil, and pen laid on his desk. He probably gets there like 20 minutes before class starts(unlike a certain someone who couldn't wake up this morning and got there 5 minutes before class started), and sits front and center.

8 o'clock classes are brutal for everyone...including me...so it isn't so shocking that some days you can hear a pin drop we are so dead/tired/hungover/ or daydreaming, but NOT JOSH. He comments on everything, even if it is spelled out in front of him. With his ironed sweater he raises his hand starting with "I don't know of anyone cares, but I'm an ENGLISH MAJOR, so i thought it was interesting...". I mean he starts every sentence like this: "I'm an English Major so Wordsworth words..."

It's so absurd. But my English professor(not the hot one) totally digs him,possibly because he's always talking while the rest of us wipe the drool from our mouths. My English teacher is a weird one to begin with. I already mentioned his preoccupation with the word "professional" but he now, like Josh, has this annoying tendency to say "I don't drink/smoke..."yadda yadda yadda. Apparently he grew up pretty Conservative in Upstate New York(I didn't even know there was still Conservative people in NY). He grew up on a farm, helping his mom and dad, and things like that so he comes from a pretty humble background.

Sometimes it is totally sweet to hear him talk about his hometown. As soon as he begins his "my mom use too..." i suddenly hear Bruce Springsteen playing in that background, and i sit back for one of his stories.

Other times though it can be a little annoying. He talks about how ultra Conservative he is all the time. So when he tries to explain a tough subject like...well i don't know...LIFE, he always go "I don't drink/smoke or do any bad thing like that.". I'm just waiting for the day when he says that premartial sex is wrong, and then i may just have to walk out.

Listen i have never done any of those things either, but it's not how i start to every conversation. I am no moral saint because i don't do "bad" things, i just don't drink or smoke or have premartial sex because...well i don't know,i just don't. Doesn't mean that i wouldn't(well i wouldn't smoke) but i just don't see any need to right now.

Anyway. Back to the issue. I think the professor and Josh may get along so well because deep down i suspect my teacher was once "the annoying kid in class" hence repeated mention on how moral correct he is(i must admit though he doesn't say it in a pompous way).

So after sending my email last week , i think my professor thinks I'm really smart. Possibly even sensible. He was describing sensibility on Friday and it eerily sounded like he was describing me...I mean not directly of course but just in general. He says that a person with sensibility is someone who "soaks up everything around them. They are poets who have a deep sense of the world, and who see the world around them in different way. They can't control it , they just are. They think long and deep about the things they encounter. They are very receptive both mentally and physical and are very sensitive people"

He then added "These are the students who go home after learning something, think deep and hard about things, and questions what is presented before them". I instantly thought "hey that's me", because i was the only one who had sent him an email that week.

But today as he was talking in class about Wordsworth he mentioned that Josh had sent him an email on Sunday. He didn't read it out loud or anything but just mentioned a question josh had asked about nature and Wordsworth poem.He also added "it was a very smart question" as soon as the professor said that I glanced over at Josh, and i swear there was smug smile on his face. Oh we made eye contact, and that smile still remained.

and all i can say is:

IT'S ON.

Early Morning post...

Sometimes i like to wake up real early in the morning and walk around campus....
...I bring my trusted(but soon to be upgraded) camera and start snapping away.

I frown as i pass my job, that still hasn't paid me yet.DAMN.

And then i skip over to the House for some cookies and pens. I ran into Waldo(crazy stalker). Maybe due to my rejection he did not try to bother me. He was very short, nice, and sweet. I'll take that any day over CRAZY, CRAZY, CRAZY. I guess he is over me. I'm kind of glad.

I had a dream last night that the hot teacher was teaching me how to dance. The only problem was he kept kicking at my feet, telling me i was doing it wrong.

I would do the dance move, he would come by me, whisper in my ear "watch you feet" and then trip me. He did this several times to only me in the class

So when i woke up i tried to decipher the dream. Apparently any dreams that involve dancing "signifies freedom from constraints and harmony/balance with yourself. You are working in cooperation with yourself"

I guess in trying to find harmony, i am tripping over my own insecurities because i don't believe i am doing it right.

I guess it is something to think about.

More after cereal, cartoons, and a trip to Wonderland.

The Journey is the Destination.

Oh what a day.

Surprisingly on Wednesday i attempted to socialize. I headed into work feeling a little worn out, when someone i worked with approached me as i was signing in. He asked me why i didn't hang out with them when they sat in the office sometimes.

As i has mentioned earlier, I've been a little quiet at work lately. I've just been a little more interested in going and leaving as quickly as i can. I kind of felt like they were talking about me, but i assumed they were just calling me snotty or something along those lines.

So i was a little taken aback when what i heard was that they actually wanted me to talk to them. And he sounded so sincere when he asked me that question that i couldn't even come up with some cool answer as to why i have been quiet lately. I simply said "I'm sorry, sometimes i am just so inside my head sometimes i forget to come out and say hey to the people every once in a while."

So i made an attempt. I actually sat in there for 30 minutes talking to about 4 of the people i work with; including short dude. It wasn't as awkward as i thought it would be, we mainly talked about music, listening to songs and critiquing the artist. It wasn't bad, as soon as i knew they wanted to talk to me, i made an effort to talk with them. And of course i was still a little silent wanting to take it all in, instead of saying much, it was kind of fun.

Short boy, who is engaged to short girl i suppose, was staring pretty hard my way though.It was kind of creepy. I just smiled and then turned back to talking to someone else.

And hearing that one of my co-workers has the R.Kelly sex tape was a little disturbing also. I don't know if i can forgive him yet for the "yeah she didn't look over 18, but he was totally peeing on her"... EWWWW

My emotions have been like a wave lately. Carrying me wherever it wishes to take me. Some moments i am completely optimistic, a little happy, I'm dancing around in my room to JT. But then there have been moments of tears, of feeling completely torn with myself. Frustrated, angry, scared.

I don't know how to explain it. It's just been complete moments of clarity suddenly replaced by increasing doubt, and Mike hasn't been any help in the comforting friend department.

Of course we are like on round 15 of "MY LIFE IS BETTER THAN YOURS". It's a little frustrating because he is always downgrading my life. Like because i don't rock climb, play Magic(yeah you heard me), or take Karate...my life has no meaning. He is constantly telling me how much more important he is. I told him about the whole email thing with my professor, and after saying "the professor doesn't think you are as smart as you probably believed" he came into Math today saying

MIKE:"i want the professor to think i am a genius"
Me: How are you going to get him to see that i mean it's just numbers and stuff
MIKE: You're just mad because you are not a genius, and never will be

I mean it's repetitive stupid shit like this that makes me want to club him. I'm getting so sick of having my life and experiences degraded by him (and everyone else in my life) who in the past has tried to tell me who i am.

It's grating because i don't even know who i am. I don't feel like i know enough to yell at the top of my lungs.

Some days i don't know what i want to do with my life. OK...that's a lie... most days i don't. But I think about a couple years ago, after the Philadelphia thing, and how low i thought life could be. It was horrible. I didn't care about life either way the coin flipped.

So when I'm faced with someone who even in a joking manner makes fun of my life, i want to yell "but you have no idea how far I've come... You have no idea how far I've climbed."

And yes, i know he's an idiot. And yes i don't know why i put up with him, but it still hurts a little because i think my life is important. I mean i know it is. I realized yesterday that in a month i will be 21. THE BIG 2-1, and I'm a little freaked out.

Is 21 like an adult? I feel my experiences have been few and none for me to be turning 21. And today i was inspired, by many things, but mainly this man, who had extraordinary yet brief life. And i don't know if can look back on my 20(soon to be 21) years and say i had lived to the fullest.

But i do know that MY life is important. My experiences and hopefully what is yet to come are important to me.

I am on a journey, or at least at the beginning stages of it. I feel like i am sorting through all the things i wish to carry with me before i begin, and of course leaving the things that my weigh me down behind me.

I don't wish to bring Anxiety or Fear.

I do wish to bring my humor, my sincerity, and sensibility (according to my English teacher). I wish to bring an open mind, and honest heart.

Because no matter what anyone says about my chosen path, my inexperience's, my life...it still is MINE. And that's important. That means something.

God why am i surrounded by assholes.

Time to play the Sims and more on sensibility tomorrow, my professor gets brownie points for today's lecture =).