Packing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boy Talk.

Today i spent 15 minutes talking about Balls. Seriously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yesterday's Blues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Procrastination.

I have an eight page paper due on Tuesday.

I'm on page 4. Barely.

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

Instead i have:

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

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

Damn.

Back to Tripping Billies.

Name Calling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So i say "what do you mean?"

Dude: Is this community service

Me: Is what community service?

Dude: This.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some days name calling is just a necessity.

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

More on that later.

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

Sufjan. I Love You.

The news is too depressing to watch.

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

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

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

I wonder if he makes house calls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some days....

...I feel completely like a dumbass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

F*cking Mondays.

So it Goes..

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hence the name of my blog.

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah. Right. If he only knew.

Sniffles...

I'm sick.

Damn.

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

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

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

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

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

Bummer.

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

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

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

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

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

Must study and get some soup for this bloody cold.

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

Sell Yer Boat

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

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

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

????

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

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

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

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

I really am spoiled by my mother. But whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I like being a funny broad though.

Time to re-group.

Family Ties

My mom doesn't listen to me.

It's pretty annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bad Friday.

What a long week.

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

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

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

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

Red Bull

...Does not give me wings.

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

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

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

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

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

WHAT THE HELL!

I now pronounce you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EWWW