Leap Day You're Messing With My Birthday.

Were it not for this leap year, today would be my birthday. So for the purpose of this blog today is MARCH 1st. Sorry Feb 29th.

I'm still a sore from rejection but the wounds are healing nicely and soon the cast will come off and the scars will fade away.

I can't feel horrible on my birthday, though sulking is desirable. Like every year, turning a new age makes me feel like i am starting something...new. I don't particularly know what that new thing is, but it feels good.

I started this blog when i was nineteen, and three years later i must say i see a huge difference.

At 19 i wanted to be doctor, was in love with an art boy, was confused about life, love and general direction of my life.

At 22 i want to be a writer, am not "so" in love with an art boy, and am still confused about life, love, and my future.

Wow maybe nothing has changed.

Happy Early Birthday to me anyway. I'm happy to have gotten this far without being committed yet =).

Oh, and because i probably won't be able to post tomorrow ( my mouth will be full of cake, and my hands will be too sticky to post) I hope everyone has a really Good MARCH 1St. There is something really awesome about being born on the first of the month. Like i am silently ushering not only a new month in, but a new phase.

Dance, laugh, and drink some alcoholic beverage for me.

~Beckett.

New School....A New Bust.

Well the results are in. I think. And i was not accepted into the writing program on my dreams. Seriously.


I've been checking the website The New School gave me religiously everyday to see the status of my application. Some days i am confidant that going to grad school is for me. Other days i couldn't give a shit "I'll apply next year" I say "here i come New Haven and loan payments".


Though i was slightly leaning on the latter of the two emotions, seeing a nice "ACCEPTED" next to my application, would have been a ego booster. And who doesn't need an ego booster every once in a while.


So today i checked again, without much hope that i would get an answer of whether i was "in" or "out". But i happened to see something new attached to my application today, and a few clicks later:


APPLICATION STATUS: Complete ready for review
APPLICATION PREFERENCE: Not entered.


Exiled to New Haven. Better prepare my bags now.


I don't think I've fully ingested it yet. And i probably wont until i graduate and realize that i don't particularly have any where to go, for a whole year anyway.


I think I'm more torn up about rejection in any regards, rather than rejection from graduate school.


The weird thing is, is that i have been in a writing frenzy as of late. After getting back some shittastic papers from my professors all giving me pretty the same critique "good ideas. complicated to read. Work on passive voice and stating ideas clearly. Avoid prosy language", i figured "hey maybe they all aren't drinking some crazy juice, i seriously need to work on this"


Writing in a blog and writing for school (or graduate school) are two very different things for me. I am good at writing what i feel. My everyday decisions are based solely on what i feel about a certain thing, and that's why ( i think) i convey my feelings with as much clarity so people can connect to what i write.


I do struggle writing about what "I think" because for me that is based more on reason than feeling. It's not that i don't have these wonderful thoughts floating around in my head, but having to critically write it, is a struggle. Even when i approached short stories, i found it difficult to convey things outside of my own feeling.


I'm not really a fan of details, descriptions, or analysis outside of feelings. And as a writer, i need to find the balance or they will have to add "without a good job in writing" next to my "not entered" status.


I guess I am not so completely devastated because i sort of already know why i was rejected. For the same reasons i get B's and C's on otherwise interesting concepts and papers. I have not tuned the mechanics of writing to write...successfully. And i can't just rely on good ideas, or talent to get me where i want to go. I need the basics or as Kbyrna called it

" the accessories to the great outfit. Like, you're wearing totally kickass clothes, and have a fab hairdo, but your shoes are old lady orthopedics, and you're wearing weird plastic jewelry that NEVER looked good. and you're carrying a plastic grocery bag with all your shit in it, instead of chic and trendy totebag or backpack or whatever. everyone says: gosh, too bad about those shoes....bad grammar and spelling distract from the overall look. it's dumb, but so is wearing navy blue shoes with an all-black outfit. you just have to say: okay, this is something i have to do. and then you learn that the semi-colon is as awesome as a pair of kittycat shoes. and you rock it ALL"

Favorite comment ever!

Like most things it sometimes takes me a while to see the whole picture. I resisted all of Mr.McNiceGuy's comments until the end of the semester, and am just implementing them now. I've had this sudden "Oh i finally get it" moment. That "this" is what everyone is saying about my writing. There comments are actually going to make me better, even if it stings to hear it.

Like i mentioned, i have been on a writing frenzy since last week. I've been getting loads of inspiration from the gargoyles on top of buildings to people blowing out cold air from their pursed mouths. I just get this idea, slowly mold it into a story, and then have this need to just write it all down.

In a matter of one week I've envisioned several different novels, scripts, short stories, and even creative non fiction. I mean i obviously do not have the time to do much with them (since i am trying to graduate and fail all my classes) , but the mojo i thought i lost is alive again and i am in a chaotic creative place.

A part of what will make me a writer, doesn't have a lot to do with grad school, it has a lot to do with tuning my problem areas, finishing the stories that i wish to write, balancing the creative with the mechanical, and having the self confidence in both my work and myself to succeed. And i don't think they can teach me that in grad school, and it's probably something they look for in a applicant. And honestly in December and even right now, i wouldn't even accept me.

It still sucks being REJECTED, but i have a whole year to work on developing my craft. I might even learn something in the process.

No time to week for i have a test tomorrow and i must prepare for birthday festivities. Tomorrow my mom is stealing me away to a place with lots of cake, food and possibly wine. What more can a girl ask for.

Dance. Dance

Before i took a class with Mr. Mc[insert name here] i had a dream about him which involved dancing.

From what i remember, i was taking a creative writing class with Mr. Mc[___] (go figure). He wanted the class to get up, and learn some dance moves, to get the creative side of us up and jumping.

There were these painted shoe imprints on the floor, that we were suppose to follow. I was following the moves pretty well, freely dancing to the music playing only in my head. Mr. McNotSoBadOfAGuy started walking through the aisles complementing everyone on their moves. When he got to me however, he began kicking at my feet, messing up my perfectly coordinated moves. It was rather frustrating and irritating.

And then i woke up.

I remember wanting to figure out what the dream meant because it was the first dancing dream i remember having. And Plus My dream guy made an appearance. I learned that to dream of dancing signifies: freedom from constraints and harmony/balance with yourself. You are working in cooperation with yourself. It also represents frivolity, happiness, gracefulness, sensuality and sexual desires. Alternatively, it may signify intimacy and a union of the masculine and feminine aspects of yourself.

I was content with the definition of the dancing part but i still wanted to know why Mr.McNotSoBadOfAGuyButQuestionableAsTeacher, was kicking at my feet. Especially since up to that point, i had only seen him walking around campus and was madly in love with his face. When i went to therapy later that week, Casey said that the professor was probably a symbol for anxiety. That having the disorder is attractive because it promises security by making me so distant from people ( i had talked about anxiety resembling a person once) and that this alluring thing was causing me to be off balance, causing a great disconnect.

Her analysis sounded good to me and i bought it.

Today i felt off balanced, more than unusual. I was ready to hide my head under some covers and call it wrap. I went to my religion class where i got my test back. I didn't fail it, but it was sucktastic. An A was demoted to a C because i either a) over looked the directions or b) my professor is old and senile. I wish i could say it were the latter but he took the exams back and i just don't remember if he or I was at fault. Either way, i was pretty pissed after i got my test back and wanted to sulk for a little while.

After the disappointing grade, i had to go to work today. I just wanted to be by myself. Some days i'm just in my head. I like to camp out in my thoughts, and have some time to collect myself. But Amanda came over to my section during mid "introspective moment" and started talking about her boyfriend. She did ask me how i was doing, but then quickly changed the conversation to herself.

After that, i couldn't even be sad, mad or angry...because i had to have a smile on my face or everyone would ask what was wrong. I don't have melancholy days, but sometimes i just want to be in my own head. It's the whole introverted part of me, where i just want to float around in my own thoughts. I'll come up for air eventually, if you give me time.

But i was sort of forced into happiness today, and i hated it. They still joked around and gently teased me, as i was completely not feeling it. Amanda was sort of rude as usual, and i was on defense like always. I did a horrible time training this new dude who is potentially crush worthy (GREY EYES!!!!) in that "i am sort of emo way". I'm not into emo kids, but whatever. And tomorrow i have to see the result of my horrible training and then probably be teased about it.

After work, i went to Shakespeare. I'm performing average in that class and i don't know why. Yes, my professor is very nice but the class is dragging (much to our fault). Then i got my paper back on Titus Andronicus. It was pretty wicked awesome, i thought, on why Rome is a wilderness. When i got the paper back however, a big ol' B- was on it Followed by:

You are too prosy! Nice argument but prose gets in the way.

After that i was pretty much done with him and that class, because he was telling the truth and it hurt.

By the time Shakespeare was over, i was tense from the whole day. So tense that i felt like i couldn't breathe. I had to go to the dinning hall after class, where crazy suite mate was hamming it up with the people next to me. There just something about her that creeps me out. I don't know what it is. She continued her sort of running into me, "excuse me" "hey Beckett" "excuse me again" thing. Eagerness is just not attractive. The day had already sucked, and i sprinted out of the dinning hall with a cookie hanging from my mouth, and GQ magazine on my mind (Hell Eric Bana).

When i got back to my room, i sort of wanted to collapse on the bed. Hide under the covers. And weep. I don't find crying so embarrassing anymore. It's sort of a relief. My day wasn't terrible but i was so tense i needed some relief and crying seemed the best thing to do.

I hate those days when I feel like my best isn't the best. On a test, at work, in front of other people. I hate feeling embarrassed about who i am, or who i aspire to be. I hate being awkward and withdrawn some days and so introspective that it comes off as distant. I hate that all those things made me tense today. So tense that i wanted to cry for some release.

And then i thought back to the dream. Mr.McOkayGuy kicking at my feet, throwing me off balance and having a hell of a time doing it, with his gorgeous face. And i realized that today i was relying on anxiety to protect me. I wanted to hide from the day and myself, and let anxiety tell me that everything was going to be okay. Some days anxiety isn't a big deal and other days it lures me back in with promises of safety.

Damn Anxiety.

I want to feel balanced. I don't want to feel disconnected or self consciousness anymore. I am proving everyday that I'm more blooming flower than wilting stem. And yet i don't implement that into my everyday life. But instead of crying about every thing...i danced. Because i don't want to be constricted by self doubt everyday.

I twirled, stomped, moved, and jumped. Not in any particular way or rhythm just in a "i don't want to be embarrassed with who" i am way. In all the parts of me. The prosy part, the introspective part, and the sullen part. I just want to be congruent and connected, and not so unbalanced. I don't want anxiety kicking at my feet anymore, no matter how attractive "he" is.

It was like footloose and Flashdance, but at least i didn't almost sprain my ankle this time.

I just wanted to throw it in anxiety's face, that even though it's kicking me and knocking me off balance some days, I'm still moving, I'm still dancing, cause I'm still looking for the balance in life i desire.

I don't know if it worked, but dancing sure was fun and at least for a moment i felt balanced in the chaos of moving freely.

I'd recommend it for those Monday blues.

The Masquerade Ball.

I'm beginning to think that everyone is lying about there so called happy lives. Or at least that is what i am telling myself, to convince me of my own happiness with my life. Who knows.

It's been a frustrating week, and my therapist got to hear all of my frustrations yesterday afternoon.

Sometimes I think it is weird that i go to therapy. That i have social anxiety, that I'm self conscious, and worrisome. Especially when some days I don't see myself as this horribly screwed up person. Not compared to everyone else i encounter throughout the day.

There is a part of me that is introverted and reserved. I like staying in bed longer than i need too. On weekends, i don't need some excuse to leave the comfort of my room. I like staying under the covers and lying in bed, until my bones feel ready to get up. It's warm under the comforter. That sort of warm that reminds you of a first sip of cocoa or something. With a book i swear that i am going to finish eventually (Atlas Shrugged) or a note pad to write my thoughts on, i like the quiet moments of life, especially in the morning. I just pull up the blinds, so my room can get some sun, turn on some Sufjan Stevens and enjoy my time alone. The beauty of it is only broken when a voice from the hallway breaks the solitude.

I am happy with the simple aspects of life. I don't call it mediocre. But simple. And i guess the friends that i am looking for will be as content with the simple aspects of their life too. Of course people are complicated, that's what is alluring about us, but i want friends who enjoy the silence as much as the big bang.

There of course are the other parts of me that are extroverted. I'm silly and goofy and tad bit adventurous. But i cherish the contemplative side more. Because it's more intimate and real.

But this week, it seems like people are flaunting there lives in my face, as if i should take note, and follow suit and I too will live the "wonderful life".

Despite my anxiety, self consciousness, and all the in betweens, some days i am pleasantly happy with my life. Those days don't come often, but lately I've been feeling that high. Even with the bullshit parts of my life, i can find an element of it that makes me happy. I understand that i don't have the relationships that i desire, but the person i have been able to become from my alone time, is pretty amazing.

Unfortunately this content high with the solitary life isn't catching on.


Amanda has extremely been bitchy this week. With the introduction of Chad, and this other guy at work (Alex), she has ditched me hard core for inappropriate elevator rides and giggles. Yes it's been only three days (including Wednesday) since he's (the Chad) been there but the bitch has come out. In front of any guy she finds attractive at the office, she has this need to antagonize me in front of them. Why do you wear your hair like that? Why are you wearing that shirt? Yadda, yadda, yadda. In place of my "non femininity" she asserts her own, after she makes her comments about me. As if she is better than me in some way, because i'm not a girl whose flashy.


The suitemate, who i had an amazing conversation with at the beginning of this semester, is a total loony bird. Other than that night, i've haven't said much too her just hi whenever i see her. But sometimes i feel like i see her too much, like those accidental bump in's aren't really accidental. One weekend i saw her at least five times, and all five times we said hi. At first i was like, yeah she wants to be my friend, that's cool, but now i'm like "this bitch is crazy".

I have to eat in a dinning hall four days out of the week to live in my dorm. It sucks hard core. Not only do i not want to be there, but i have to force myself to eat. I have come to a point where i don't mind sitting alone. One day when we were both waiting for the door to open i started a conversation with her. To be friendly. As soon as we get into the dinning, and i take my seat she keeps walking in front of my table as if i was suppose to wave her over. She did it so many times, trying to get my attention but i just kept pretending like i was eating.

She has also begun talking loudly on her phone in her room, as to signify she is in there and having a blast talking to whoever is on the other end (which i suspect is no one). Then on Wednesday,we were waiting outside again. We were sort of talking, and then I started listening to my music again. She looked over at this girl who was standing next to her and complimented her on the shirt she was wearing. The girl said thank you, and then returned talking to her friend. When i took my seat a couple of minutes later, the suitemate made a note of passing right by me, and sitting next to the girl who she complimented. The girl and her friends made a weird look, like "who they hell are you". It was as if she throwing it in my face, this fake pseudo happiness with friends, as i sat down by myself thoroughly enjoying my book and salad.

It's been a week of people throwing their lives in my face, even if they don't realize it. And as it happens, I wonder what's so wrong with my life that people criticize it. I mean Amanda has such a shittastic relationship and loony bird, recently had the campus police over because some girl threatened to kick her ass.

Whether it be a girl who decides to grab her boyfriends had and tenderly draw into him as i approach, or two people who decide to get rather chatty as soon I step into line. I'm to think that everyone is just lying. That some aspects of relationships are just for show. Like people validate themselves the presence of others. Because if you are seen with someone, then that means you are loved, and you are special, and a loner like me.

A loner who sometimes doesn't mind being alone.

Liars. Pleasantly content liars.

I'm not saying that everyone is liar. But there is something odd about having to validate your normalcy in public. And maybe it's because i'm a private and reserved person, i just don't get the need to do so. I would rather have the strong friendships behind closed doors, than fake one's that everyone can see and envy.

Sometimes i feel like everyone is wearing a mask. Like i'm attending a masquerade ball, but i'm the only one who didn't get the memo. Everyone is wearing the my life is beautiful mask. Because i have friends, and a boyfriend, and smiles and laughs. And it's fucking irritating. Very irritating, because even though i know under those fake smiling faces, is a complicated person afraid to be flawed, i want too want to slip on that mask every once in a while, and pretend just like everyone else that "everything is beautiful and nothing hurts".

But i guess i'm not that good of a liar.

The Chad.

Today The Chad should up (i'll explain the nickname later. Unless you already know the Seinfeld connection).

After disappointing a handful of girls yesterday with his absence, i figured Chad wanted more with his college life than to be stuck in a library most of the day shelving books. Like Amanda's proclamation yesterday morning "i was pretty much over the whole Chad thing". Well except for continuing to write about him in my blog, but i find this situation extremely funny and interesting.

After my Buddhism class, i headed to the library and again as soon as i walked in i heard "Beckett your boyfriend is outside". Apparently i am the only single person (besides Debbie Downer) in our department and they assumed i would be the one trying to get his attention. I don't know if they are just teasing me about it, because i am not a flitartous person or they wish they were in my position to flirt with him openly without getting in trouble with their boyfriends. Either way i was pretty annoyed with everyone assuming i would go after him. Or that there would be this mutual attraction that compelled us to each other.

"My who/what is outside" i asked, like i didn't know what they were talking about. My boss went on to say that Chad was outside, and it would nice if I introduced myself to him, because apparently that is what i normally do (NOT). There is this guy who works with me named Britton (no seriously), he's sort of your slightly over weight best friend. Sarcastic, dry humor, that sort of the thing. Until recently, i didn't really talk to him. But we bonded over this horribly "not suppose to be funny-but actually sort of is funny in the i'm going to hell way" cover of a book. Ever since then whenever we see each we make reference to the book and laugh.

Anyway. Britton was in there, stalling because he didn't want to get to work so he was listening to Debbie Downer talk about Chad. Maybe it's because she hasn't had much love in a while, but she has a thing bad for Chad. My boss does this thing where she exerts her personality traits on me, just because we share some things in common. Sometimes i feel like she puts words or experiences in my mouth just so we can relate. I understand that she sees something in me that reminds her of her youth. But after a while it's sort of weird. Like she is trying to live out her fantasy though other people.

So when i walked in, she wanted me to go say hi to Chad. She said it with a wink and a blush. I hadn't had my coffee yet, and was not into seeing anyone until i got it in my system. As i was walking out to go get my coffee before seeing Chad, Britton said he would come with me so i didn't have to introduce myself to him alone.

As we headed through the aisle looking for Chad, Britton said: I've seen him. And i'm just saying. He's no Fabio.

Fabio? Really. Clearly a boys answer.

When we went to the area he was suppose to be in, the other newbie's said Amanda had taken him upstairs to find him a cart. Though there were two of them near by. I did mention that Amanda has a boyfriend. Who she claims to be madly deeply in love with. Yet the moment Chad comes, she is no where to be found.

We all make a face like "that's strange" even though we knew she just wanted some alone time with him. I was resigned to just getting my coffee and not introducing myself to anyone.

Listen i'm boy crazy, but unless James McAcoy or Sufjan Stevens was hired, i truly didn't give a shit about Chad anymore. I didn't care if he was a ten, gorgeous, built like a god, with dreamy sultry eyes. I didn't care if his accent made me swoon, or he was so nice and gentle that i too might have thrown myself at him. I was tried, needing some coffee and a muffin. And unless Chad had all of those things in his hands, i was just ready to see him already. F*ck Chad, is what i thought, until the elevator door open.

As soon as we turned the corner to head towards the elevator Amanda's flirtatious laughter rang from the now opening doors. I knew that Chad would be right next to her, and my heart for a moment stop and all those bad things i thought, sort of faded away....

[Dramatic Pause.]

I was reminded (i'm sorry for doing this too, but i love the buildup) of the moment when i went to Art Boy's club for the first time. When me and Katherine turned the corner to Art Boy sitting in front of the door. He had he his hands on his face, pissed about having the room he asked for occupied by another class. It was like slow motion, from the time i spotted him, until we approached him, time didn't stop, it just cruised a little. I realize now, it was only seemed slow because i was petrified and walking like an old peson. Anyway.

So as the elevator door opened, I for a brief moment thought, once again, that the heavens would part, a ray of light would shine on the beautiful chad, and i would be as taken aback as i was with Art Boy.

But....I was not. Oh Chad. Poor Chad.

Once Britton stepped out of my way, i came face to face with this normal looking dude. I mean he wasn't ugly, but he wasn't my type i guess. He had that pretty boy thing. Like his face is just naturally pretty but there was nothing unique or compelling about. He had all this gel in his hair to make it stand up, and was just normal beyond normal. Amanda was so glued to him that i thought she was going to bark if i got too close. I said hi, and then excused myself to get coffee.

Coffee was more attractive to me at this point. That's pretty much a clear sign you're not attracted to someone when you are dreaming of a blueberry muffin more than them.

Before i left Britton said "i told you no Fabio"

And boy was he right. When i got back to the office, Amanda was sitting down with a glow to her face. She asked me what i thought of him and i said that i didn't see what everyone else saw. She rolled her eyes and then brought up this comment i said awhile ago, that i like interesting faces. I don't like the obviously beautiful face, but the guy who can wake up in the morning, still look a little scruffy and have a charm to his features. I like faces to be a little off. Not ugly but imperfect so i can be the one who finds the beauty in it. I know. Weird. But whatever.

"You just don't have good taste" was all she could say. And then everyone laughed. It was like i had offended her, and everyone in the office just because i didn't agree that he was hot. They looked at me as if i was a huge weirdo, who couldn't see the beauty in the obvious.

I was pretty much dismissed after that. Everyone going on about Chad as i left quietly. I guess i would have been really offended if i knew my eyes were betraying. But they weren't. Chad is just this nice looking preppy dude, with gelled hair. I know, I can feel the disappointment from here. Blame Chad. I am.

Me and Britton have decided to nickname him The Chad. Since so many people are talking about him with hushed voices. He just isn't this person anymore he's THE CHAD. Plus he probably looks at himself in the mirror everyday, telling himself how beautiful he is.

Speaking of Art Boy, i saw him walking down the street today. Surprisingly it was right after work and the disappointment with the Chad. He was decked out in a black sweater and jogging pants. But for reason i still could make out his face beneath his hat. For a moment i think the heavens parted, a little ray of light came down, and time slowed just a little for us to catch each others eye.

If only he would work at the library. All my dreams would come true.

The Prom King

My mom hates this movie.


She has valid reasons though. It's pretty slow in observation of regular people. There's a lot of things going on, and yet it is still pretty drawn out. The drama is subtle, and the tone is one to get use to.


She fell asleep mid way through the movie. And woke up towards the end, only to say "What the hell was this about"


I have my pro's and con's about the movie, but for the most part any adaptation of a Tom Perrotta book, i generally will come to love.
Eventually.


My favorite part of the whole movie is the introduction of Brad (the sort of Naked Patrick Wilson on the left). When the camera pans on the women glaring at the sexy stay at home dad with the toddler on his shoulders, you kind of fall for him. Being a fan of nicknames i was particulary in love with the one the women gave him "The Prom King". For apparently he's perfect in every single way (except for the whole cheating on wife thing).


On Friday after hearing about the new co-worker Chad, this scene came into my mind. He'd only been there for an interview but he stirred enough interest in everyone that we were all sort of was for today to get here, when our "Prom King" would grace the office.



When i came into the office today, there was a nervous energy in the air. Debbie Downer (the boss) was sitting at the desk, looking at her ex boyfriends myspace page. We talked about men's idea of the perfect women for a while (because she always talks about that and then bitches about all the young women getting older men), and i think she called me a wallflower (apparently that means because i am shy, i am unassuming even though i'm smart and interesting)



Amanda came in early, dressed in a hot pink shirt bringing with her a small box. Because i'm naturally curious, i asked her what was in it. It was this sparkly pink box with a purple things on it. And my excitement was stirred.



Early Birthday present. No.



Instead it was perfume. Antonio Banderas women's perfume to be exact. She bought it this weekend "for no particular reason", and i guess she just wanted to bring with her to work to show everyone. We then spent the next couple of minutes spraying it on ourselves, until i realized that she only brought the perfume to allure Chad with her scent, and that Antonio Banderas was giving me a headache.



The wheels of everyone's imagination was turning as we waited until 9:30 when he was scheduled to come in for his first day of work. We normally give the new employee a tour of the library and show him some of the stuff we have to do.



We don't normally anxiously wait around, looking at the door every few minutes to see if it is opening. It was pretty pathetic and interesting to watch or be apart of. There was another new guy there, but no one really said anything to him. He just sort of sat to the side, while Debbie Downer kept asking what was keeping Chad.



30 minutes had passed from the time he was schedule to come in. But yet she made us wait a little while longer, before at least giving the other guy a tour.



The Prom King seems to represent something for everyone. An unattainable person for Debbie Downer. A flirtatious conquest for Amanda. A resolution to Kathleen that her married life and new baby are all she needs in this world. And i haven't yet figured out what he represents for me seeing that i haven't seen his face.


I don't know what it is about our image of the ideal masculine male which pulls women in. I think we have this idea that unhappiness is not something that they have. That there perfection is written on their scuplted faces. There are no such things as bad days for them. Their family life is perfect, their social life is more perfect, and his beauty only proves all of that. We (as in everyone) wish to attain his charm and assumed perfections by associating ourselves with him. Because maybe once we do, our own sort of complacency and dissatisfaction of our lives will fade away. Or at least that is what we imagine.

I mean for the most part we didn't know anything about him about ( i didn't even see his face) except that he dressed nicely and smelled good. Oh and he had a gorgeous face. But we had created this idol from that, and it didn't matter if he couldn't live up to it.

Unfortunately "The Prom King" didn't even show up today. His first day and he wasn't even there. Amanda said she was over him, as she put her perfume up. Debbie Downer, returned to myspace where she went on and on about her ex boyfriend denying her the family she wanted, and Kathleen said everyone was stupid any way for creating an imaginary boyfriend from some guy no one really knew.

I think she's the smartest one of us all. And that's hard to say seeing most days i don't like her.

The Letter

On Friday i received letters from both the schools i applied too. Two very small letters, in very small envelopes, in my very small mailbox, with my name on it.

I must admit, when i saw the letters in the pile of misc. mail, my heart dropped. Literally.

I wasn't expecting that reaction, because ever since i turned in my sucktastic story i have been feeling good about taking a year off, moving to New Haven (or some place else), and having to the time to write freely for a while. The year is suppose to be my mental, physical, and creative restoration. I'm not expecting some Hollywood-isque journey(though that would be interesting material), just a rest from this.

I'm not the kind of girl who gets complacent. I would never get so stuck in my physical routine that returning to grad school would fall to the wayside. Unless i miraculously got the job i always wanted in my year off, grad school is where i see myself going. The problem with me is that i am always on the move, from one thing to another. I have an abundance of energy that comes from who knows where, and i like doing a million things at once. Trust me it isn't ADHD, it's just my love of sort of moving from one thing to another. This "break", this new haven for me, is suppose to be the detour from my usually rushed self, just so i can reclaim the things that i love. Which is writing.

But when i stared at both those letters. Emerson College in one hand . And the New School in the other, my ideas of new haven and a break went in the background of my mind. I was just crushed because i knew somewhere in my heart that they were letters telling me "we are sorry to inform you that you have not been accepted, thanks for considering our school and we look forward to you reapplying next year".

I just held the letters for a while, staring at them the whole walk to work. I was trying to prepare myself for rejection. I was trying to prepare my heart for the tears that were sure to follow. I had no idea where this emotion came from. In therapy I’ve nonchalantly tossed around the idea of being rejected. Toby, the therapist, has a way of staring at me as if he knows my smiles and laughs are covering up something else. He does this hand near his mouth thing, followed by the look that perhaps says "she is breaking inside, but masking it nicely with a cool demeanor"

I struggled so much the whole month of December and part of January typing out that story. It was as if every sentence, period, and piece of dialogue was a break or make it sort of thing. I must admit that it's easier to be absolutely no one, content in your unhappiness, settling for mediocre than to be someone. Than to be the someone you've always wanted to be.

I fucked up. Freaked out with the thought of following what i am good at, because a part of me has this fear that it may not work out. It was easier with medicine, only because i knew that my poor grades and general disinterest would be my downfall (which it was). But writing is so much more to me than anything else, and the idea of that not working out, borders on being a painful thing. I wonder how many people are out there, whose dreams never worked out, and they had no other choice but to settle, in order to give their heart a rest from breaking.

It wasn't even that i didn't have a good story. With a lot of work, there was and is something beautiful there. I know it. When i was working on it, i was like "a few more revisions and i have something". But i just couldn't finish it, and not in that "i never see perfection way" but in the " i don't have the time, or energy to do so"

And when i was holding those letters, i realized right then how much i fucked up. That my damn fears which get in the way, caused me burn out. Caused me a years break in new haven.

So...when i got the library, everyone was talking about the new guy, and after a while i just kind of got bored of hearing about his hottness. I took a seat while Amanda and Julie were talking, and decided to open the letter up right there. I just sort of wanted to know. Even though i knew it was going to be bad, i just wanted to see it on paper, so i could plan the next phase of my life for a year.

....

However, it was not a rejection or acceptance letter. It was a "we have received all your materials for your application and are in the process of reviewing your portfolio". Geez. I don't know if I can take 4 more weeks of this.

I didn't know i wanted it so bad, until i was faced with not getting it. And i think my bout of "writers anxiety" had nothing to do with grad school. I am a person who bails at the most important times, the time when it matters the most to put all of myself into something. Whether it be in relationships or writing. I think that is the vulnerable part of me. I mean it's in everything i do, when i get real close to gaining something that i want, i shrink back and get self conscious because i know that what has to follow is me.

I have to put my heart into, I have to offer the parts of my self that i keep guarded, i, i have to be vulnerable because that is where the truth of who i am lies.

And maybe the truth is masked with insecurities, but there must something beautiful there.

If i can get past that apprehension i think i could be something. Something spectacular. But getting to the part is proving harder than i thought, and it threatens to hold me back in my everything i do.

Maneater.

Oh we're in trouble.

I don't think i need to say that the hottness meter at the library is not at an all time high. For some reason there aren't that many hot dudes lining up to work at the university library. Our staff is composed of mainly girls, which for the most part is no problem, except for the horny girls at my job who are dying for a hot dude to grace our presence.

There is separation between shelvers (what i do) and the people who work at the front desk. And all the really attractive guys work there. But i guess the hassle of having to take the elevator upstairs to see a handsome face is just too much for us.

After having an amazing extending sleep this morning ( my 9 o'clock class was cancelled), i made my way to the library. As soon as i opened the door to the break room, Short Boy's Ex-Girlfriend (Amanda) gasped, screamed my name really loudly and then said "There is a new hot guy working here. come. quick"

Interests stirred, i plopped my bookbag down on some chair and walked (ran) into the office where my boss (Debbie Downer), my sort of other boss (Kathleen), and Julie (another student shelver) sat, wiping the drool from their face.



I missed him by about 30 minutes, but watching 4 reasonably sane girls transform into honry vixens only prove that he was the hottest thing that ever walked inside the library. Good Luck Kid. Apparently the new guys name is Chad, and he's not only hot but super HOTT. My boss, whose the most miserable human being i have ever met, even had a glow to her when talking about him. "This is the first time, that i've ever actually said "damn he is hot" about anyone in this office" she said, her face turning the same shade as her red hair.



And if she, Debbie Downer of all Debbie Downers, says that shit, then it must be true.



We had to have been in the office for an hour. Me and Julie had not seen him , so we were listening intently to their description of him. By the way Amanda, Kathleen, and Debbie Downer were talking, he's a walking adonis, causing women to fall at their feet and offer their womb to him. I played into the idea for a while, drooling slightly at the thought of having this extrodinary hot and apparently nice guy working for us.

It wouldn't be so bad. The only guys on our floor is a) one who sweats b) one who wants to be called Jobby one Kanoby c) one dating Julie and d) one who signs in for work and then leaves. The thought of having a normal looking guy is almost two much to handle.

Of course, Amanda offered to train him or Tuesday, along with showing him around and getting him acquainted with everyone. Julie plans on wearing something slightly skimpy, Kathleen has a baby and a boyfriend and told us all to go calm down, and Debbie Downer sighed because he was totally her type but was too young and a coworker.

I am a little hesistant by his addition to the workplace, especailly if he is as gorgeous as everyone says. We have placed a non monetary bets that he has a girlfriend or even a wife. Despite Debbie Downer saying that he seemed like a nice person, i don't think you can assess someone's complete personality during an interview.

If figure that someone that hot, must know they are gorgegous, and i have no want to feed into it. I think it would be giving him to much attention, especially since everyone is playing the "whose going to get a shot at love" game with him.

On tuesday i suspect all of us will get to work extra early, to get a glance at him. Amanda will no doubt wear tight pants, Julie will wear a low cut shirt, and i think i am just going to bum it out like i usually do.

He can't be that hot? Or at least i hope not for the sake of his survival on the job.

He'll Bite Your Head Off.

I kid, I kid. He's too gentle for head biting. Because my mom is wicked awesome she sentme a valentine's day care package equipped with chocolate, lollipops, and a stuffed dog named Buddy. If you press his paw, his ears will wiggle and he barks followed by him saying, rather frenzied, "hug me, hug me...hug me". And because i can't turn down a pleading dog, i hug him.

My valentine's day was pretty uneventful but nonetheless i still enjoyed it. Short boy's Ex-Girfriend talked about her new boyfriend. My boss talked about her old boyfriend. And i of course spent the better part of my day dreaming ideally of medieval tales and knights (my Medieval Masculinity class is the shit)

I was kind of hoping Mike would call today. Yesterday he called me because he needed to borrow a calculator. Because my phone was off i didn't get the message until that afternoon. When i called him back of course he didn't need it, but there was lingering suspicion that he just wanted me to hang out with him for a while.

In a quest to understand my needs and wants from the relationships that i am slowly forming, i am having to sort of assert myself to figure out what my needs are. Which is proving to be a generally scary thing. I have no idea how to say to someone "that i need them"(of course not in those terms). Their frienship, their understanding, or their time to jut hang out.

So i didn't say to him "hey do you want to just get some coffee or something". I just did the awkward "okay i'll talk to you later thing" and hung up.

Damn.

I'll have to talk about my therapy session tomorrow ( i keep holding it off) . It seems like a little cliche to talk about love on the day of love. And plus i don't want to feel all mushy gushy on V day. I'll save that shit for the movies.

I have a paper to write and chocolate to eat.

Until then. Happy Valentine's Day.

Beckett, the Vampire Slayer?

I had a dream about vampires last night.

For some reason the apartment complex that i was living in became infested with those blood suckers, forcing everyone down to the laundry room (located in the basement) where me and the rest of the residents started turning on each other, as the vampires made there way down to us.

By the time they reached us only me, the kid from August Rush( i don't know why) and some dude were the only survivors (your perfect nuclear family concieved from chaos) of the apartment. By the time we made it out, the news and government where already camped out side, reporting that our apartment was the only apartment complex in the metroploitan area overrun by vampires but the violence from which the residents turned on each other was the worse they had ever seen or documented.

According to Dreammoods.com (a highly reliable source. ???) Dreaming of a vampire symbolizes:

a)seduction and sensuality, as well as fear and death.
b)depiction of someone in your waking life whose charm may ultimately prove harmful.
c)decisions about sex and losing your virginity.
d)that you are feeling physically or emotionally drained.

Seeing that i had therapy on Friday where i confessed that i desperately want connections and love, but feel that i am not worthy of them, i think i can cross a, b, and c...and go directly to my good old friend D.

After i continued on making my confessions to him (which he let me drag on about well over the 45 minutes), he sat back in his chair and said "Holy Shit, this has been a very good session"

I'll have to expand about it more when i get back from class, or apparently when i get back from slaying damn vampires.

Work Ethic does not equal Schoraly Ethic.

I am an amazing worker.



I don't want to boast about my kickassness at work (the university library)...but i get shit done. And i get shit done well. After my first disastrous work experience, where i was fired a month after being hired, i took it as a personal attack on my skills. Not that i had much skills making fries and asking customers what the hell they wanted to eat...but i walked in every night with a good attitude even when most of those nights were shitty.



I actually like working because i like starting, working on, and eventually completing tasks. I could not have a job where not only was i sitting on my ass all day but i was not being productive in some way. I'm not saying that library isn't one of those jobs (because it kind of is) but there is at least an end result to all the shelving. Books are put in their right place, and order is restored to the world.



My boss wonders where i get all the energy to admittedly start working when i get there. I tell her i don't know, i just like things to get done.



I wish i could say that i have applied my work ethic to school. But that would be a lie and lying isn't cool. When it comes to actual school work i am procrastinator. You know the saying "she is relying on pretty" on everything that she does. Well i'm relying on smart, and that isn't getting me too far. Because i know that i am not an idiot i don't really apply myself like i should. It's been about 3-4 weeks since school started and i can barely drag myself to class without yawning.



I am running on little sleep during the week. With six classes i barely know what day it is yet alone what class i am suppose to be going to. I drank as much coffee as i can, jet off to work and then class, am exhausted by the time i get to class, head back to my dorm, because of the exhausation i take a nap, only to be awake at night, to then wake up to an early morning.



My routine is thrown all off track, and adjusting to it has been harder than i thought. This still doesn't excuse my general procrastination but it has enhanced it some. I'm just lagging behind and struggling to get back on the ball. I have so much to do and no idea how to squeeze it into my schedule.


I'll figure it out somwhere in between naps.



SOOO.....I applied to two grad schools in janauary. I could only do two (due to the "I'm going crazy week). The truth is, despite my love of writing...i have no portfolio. Portfolio's, i have learned, are important, because it is an accumulation of your work which can easily be distributed when the time is right. Or when you have to apply to grad school. My stress level would have been a lot lower if i already had stories, if i had the time to write.



The story i turned in...was kind of sucky. What i wanted to do with it would have taken a while, so i turned in a draft. My therapist (who i see tomorrow) is delicately trying to prepare me for rejection because he knows that i don't deal with it well.



I however, am okay with not getting into a writing program right this minute. I mean i realize how important it is for me to go to grad school. I can be taught really great professors and professionals, be immersed in a community that focuses on fiction and screen writing, and hell i could met some really cool and hot people . But.. and this is a big one I am exhausted from school, and though i know the perils of taking a year off, i know the benefits my body and my work could recieve from having the time to do so. From not being in a classroom just for a while.



So i have planned that if grad school won't work this year ( meaning i don't get accpeted) I am moving to New Haven, Conneticut. Because the coast of living in New York is insane and i have to look for an alternative living area. A place where i can get a job, take the year off, and write in between living. My aunt suggested New Haven, because they have a metro which runs directly to the city. It's a two hour trip, but if i wanted to i could live and work according to my needs.



It's sort of an impulsive decision. Going off for a year to a place i've never been to, to work, to write, and to start fresh. But i think i need that more than anything right now. It is plan B and all, but i sounds pleasant to my ears



And if this doesn't say somthing, Haven means: A place of shelter, safety, or retreat; a refuge; an asylum.



Ignoring the asylum part, this is clearly affirming something, even if i am not so sure of what that something is.

Shakespeare.

There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who love shakespeare and those who can't read his plays without drowning in old english and complete confusion.

I am the latter.

I have to take two pre 1800 lit classes to graduate and needless to say i waited until the last semester to do so. For a day i was in a shakespeare's class this summer, but i was so mortified by my teacher who wanted us to act the plays out in front of the class, that i quickly dropped it.

However unless i plan to remain a college student my whole life, i have to get these classes out of the way or i will be stuck here...forever.

I am taking a shakespeares tragedy and a medieval masculinity class to fulfill my requirement. My medieval masculinity teacher is wicked awesome. She has that cool "i teach english look about her". She walks in to class with these army styled boots, a book in her hand, and these cat classes which offset her wavy blonde hair. Then for the next 75 minutes she talks about knights, and queen, castles and woodland creatures. I blame my middle school obsession with romance novels on my interest in knights and castles. But for this class my years of reading chivalric stories has paid off.

I can't say the same for Shakespeare. The language barrier is just too awful. I don't think that his plays suck, but having to spend the whole time dechiper words and get character name and importance together is a little grating. My teacher is so nice though. You can tell he was never picked first for any kickball games, because he was probably in a corner reading Othello. He's kind of small and balding, and his voice is so soft he could coo a baby to sleep. Unfortunately because most the people in my class are the "i don't like Shakespeare" audience, class discussion is pretty painful.

He sits on the desk, trying to get something out of us but for the most part we just stare at him with blank eyes and yawns. It's pretty painful to watch. Sometimes i even have to avert my eyes as he pleads with us (with his eyes) to say something...anything. There are about two or three people who contribute full heartedly, but even they are at a loss for words sometimes. So mainly it's just him, sitting on his desk or walking around class talking with as much enthusiasm as he can, only to greet the disappointment of our dormant faces.

AWKWARD.

And of course now i have to read Romeo and Juliet for the 97th time. If he can pull something out of this play that hasn't been discussed before then i'll have to applaud or even contribute to class discussion.

I'm suffering from a case of awkwardness this week. I feel like an idiot when i speak. I'm self conscious again, and it's because talking with people is more exhausting than i thought. I'm having to put myself out there, and apart of me is totally...awkward. In everything i do, especially when i am trying to get words out of my mouth.

I am taking linguistics this semester, and we are learning all about sentence structures and how people use language as a form of communication. It's sounds boring, which it is, but after an array of embarassing and awkward responses to questions in the last two days...i'm thinking i may learn something in this class.

There is that moment when someone says something to you and instead of having a normal response, something stupid comes out. It's only after the stupid comment that you realize "what the hell did i just say"

Today, for an example, in linguistics we worked in groups. Luckily i got to work with a girl who i've previously had a class with. We clicked pretty well and got through the discussion questions posed by the professor with a good knowledge of the material.

After 15 mintutes of group work, the professor brought the class back together so we could discuss the questions as a whole. As i was daydreaming about what i would do after class (grab something to eat) i heard my name being called. She wanted me to answer the first question on the paper.

The logical apporach would have been to just discuss what me and Alison (my group member) had talked about. Instead the first thing that came out of my mouth was:

Me: Oh Really?!?!! You want me to answer..

There was a collective laugh from the other students as i trudged through the question without too much problem.

That was only a small example of the least embarassing moment i've had in the last two days.

It's like i'm getting more awkward with age. It's horrible.

Time for Romeo and Juliet.

One Month

One month from today (give or take a few days) i'll be 22!!! I don't know if I should put exclamation points behind the number but i am looking forward to the new age anyway.



In therapy we don't really talk about my social anxiety anymore. It's not that it isn't this huge factor in my life, because it is, but i guess i am learning to deal with it a lot better than i have in the past. I'm seeing huge changes from being 20 year old me to almost 22 year old me especially in the whole social aspect of my life.



I've slowly started talking to people, and in anxiety land this is a huge leap. I'm not saying anything particulary profound but i'm saying something that has for the most part worked in my favor. I'm kind of shocked how people respond to me. Anxiety tells me that people will think i am weird, awkward, and self conscious. What i've learned is that people do think i'm weird, awkward and self conscious but for some reason find it endearing.



????



I never really knew how exhausting it was talking to people, until i started doing it. The atmosphere at work has changed dramatically since i've started saying more then "hi and bye" to my co-workers. People now are starting to linger near me when i work, and i have no other choice except to talk and make up something to say.



Short boy's ex-girlfriend is one such case. We have been hanging out more and more at work, that i feel like i rarely get anything done. Yesterday we spent all of my two hours before class, reading magazines and checking out the Guniess book of world records. She is much nicer than i assumed when short boy introduced me to her, and we seem to bond over our dislike for him.



I feel like a friendship is potentially forming, but after my experience with Katherine i'm not getting my hopes up, only to find out she's a crazy loon. I haven't had a friendship in so long, i don't even know what i want from one.



I haven't had a lot of things in my almost 22 years, and stepping into any sort of friendship or relationship is really freaking me out a little...especially now since people are taking an interest in what i have to say.



I desperately want a friend. Someone to talk to and reveal crushes too rather than admitting everything on my blog. I mean it's fun and all but sometimes you need interactions with people, just so you feel...alive. It would be fun to have someone who kind of understands what I am going through or at least someone who will listen to what i have to say and give encouraging advice with a few nods here and then.



I'd like to have someone to be impulsive with. And brave with .Silly and contemplative with. And so far though i am proving to be a rather to be interesting to people...I just haven't met that person yet. Or i have met them but have no idea what i want from the relationship so i don't try to make anything of them.

Because i'm idealist person i hold on to these all to unrealistic ideas about relationshisp. In my mind the ideal friendship would be a"Babysitters Club" scenerio (my favorite book series when i was younger). Mallory, Dawn, Kristy, Mary Anne, Stacy, and Claudia (don't worry i don't know there names by heart, i had to wikipedia it). A small group of real close friends who i spend the majority of my time with listening to music, watching movies and discussing boys (minus the whole babysitting thing). Our only arguments would arise from conversation on who loves Justin Timberlake more.

But since i am no longer a 8 year old girl reading the Babysitters club i have learned that friendships don't function like that. Mallory could be a bitch, Dawn can be totally flaky, lets be honest Kristy has no interest in "Justin Tiimberlake", Stacy has boyfriend issues that she talks about all the time, and no one really likes Claudia who will probably drift off and get new friends anyway.


Friendship is complex because people are complicated. And in people's complication and my need for connection i see how vunerable it is getting to know people and their complexity. And though i desperately seek relationships, i still am hesistant in fully putting myself out there, and watching my idea of ideal relationships give way a little, so i make some real friendships along the way.

Sometimes i give myself a headache.