A Christmas Party.

What a bizarre weird day.

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

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

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

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

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

CRAP.

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

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

What I learned:

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

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

High School is hell

College is Freedom

And there aren't any Pep Rallies

And much more....

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I will miss that class. It was hella cool.

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

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

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

Back to Math.

Funniest Day Ever!!!

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

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

Bummer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Real Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bigger than my Body

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chain Letter Rebellion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wonder as I Wander.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway back to the phrase.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Last Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time to study.

Is it Possible....

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

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

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

Happy Thanksgiving.

ThanksGIVING

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

WTF?!?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This Fine Social Scene.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Long time Coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We will see what happens with that next time.

Anway

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did i mention....

....That i hate signing up for classes. That trying to sort through what class to take with which professor is comparable to a Suduko game, except you can always look in the back for answers to that game.

Did i mention that trying to choose between Organic Chem with a horrible teacher or Physics with a horrible teacher has given me a headache.

I know i haven't mentioned that i have a English paper to write for tomorrow, a book to read, and a psych quiz to study for...all before Medium comes on at 9.

If i could only freeze time so i could get everything done before Medium(or my nap) then my problems would be solved. If only i could get someone to drop the now closed biology class i am trying to take then the world would be a better place. If only universities wouldn't hire sucky teachers whose rate my professor profiles sound like something off of court tv, than i would not be a tad bit stressed, worried, and hungry. But the latter has nothing to do with school.

But of course the world doesn't work like that. It would sure be nice if it did.

Beckett

PS. But i did get my Sufjan Stevens Christmas album in the mail today which makes trying to write this paper a little more easier. Trying to find a class to take next semester, still pretty sucky.

The Pageant of the Bizarre

You know the saying "I woke up on the wrong side of the bed", well it was the total opposite for me today, I woke up on the very good side of bed and that feeling continued throughout the day.

This weekend was suppose to be spent studying for my math exam and bio exam this week. The first being the Bio exam. But of course it was another restful weekend, where I stayed in bed and watched Home Alone eating marshmallows out the bag. I forgot how good marshmallows and Home Alone 1 are.

Needless to say I didn't get to bed until 1, feeling kind unsure about how i would do on the test today.

But I woke up confidant, heading to class with notes in hand trying to cram everything down, and when i got to class I waited patiently along with 100 and some odd kids for the professor to come. And we waited. And waited. and waited.

10 minutes past when the test should have been handed out and I should have been struggling with my confused face, he walks in. NO TEST IN HAND. The night before he was suppose to give a study session, but he forgot. Apparently he thinks a study session is necessary before every test, and because he forgot to show up for it...He Moved the test to Wednesday. That has never, ever, ever happened, and after we all kind of stared at each other like "is he serious" we relaxed, threw our notes in our bookbag, and nearly kissed the ground he walked on.

So I get at least another day to procrastinate...Sweet.

After class I ran to the bookstore because I had forgotten to buy one of the books for English that we have to read. Hoping beyond hope that they would still have it I headed into the book store right into the path of Waldo(AKA stalker I haven't seen for a while), but I couldn't turn back, I really needed the book. So after doing some James Bond ducking( what I am talking about James Bond walks right in the face of danger) I thought I had escaped him. Yeah but I forgot stalkers always find you.

So as I am waiting for the dude to tell me if they have the book in stock, Waldo taps me on the shoulder. I say hey politely and return back to the dude. Waldo says something like "well then" and kind of walks away. The dude tells me they don't have the book, but they may have it in Barnes and Nobel(which is where our college bookstore is located. Yeah a Bookstore within a bookstore). I turn around to go search for the book in Barnes and there's Waldo right beside me.

Waldo: what have you been up to. I haven't seen you in a while...I am studying new things....Rome, the Classics.

Me: really, that's nice

Then he goes on to ask me all these history questions. Like when did you become a history expert. Who was the first...yadda yadda yadda? Kind of crap. I don't even think he knew the answer, he just wanted to ask it. So after I keep saying "I have no idea", he suddenly gets all excited

Waldo: Man I want to hang out with you so bad!!!!
Me: that's nice, but I have been really busy this semester, and will be busy these next couple of weeks.

I head off to the fiction section, Waldo quick on my heels, I'm rambling about really needing to find this book, so he will get the hint and leave me alone. He ask me how old I am, I answer. Unfortunately I do not look like a 20 year old, I don't think I have ever looked like my real age( I'd card myself in a bar). He then calculates his age from my age and seeing that there is only a three year difference continues on with his conversation. He still doesn't get the hint to leave and out of know where he says "I have an urge...". My heart stop and my mind began racing wondering what the hell kind of urge he was feeling:

Please don't feel me up, please don't feel me up, god where are the cops or a strong burly man when you need one. I could attempt to kick him in the balls I hear that hurts, but he could easily drag me out of here very pissed that I kicked him in his tenders. I really should stop calling it tenders I'm not 4 and the definition of tender wouldn't really describe...Okay maybe I could make a run for it, shit that would look pretty weird, and I can't scream that would draw attention and he could total be this nice, possibly slow, guy who works upstairs and who has an urge to I don't know....Please don't feel me up .

Waldo: I have an urge to ask you to be my girlfriend
Me: What? I didn't catch that(totally caught what he was saying, hoping he had meant to say "I have an urge for you to meet my Girlfriend")
Waldo: I have an urge to ask you to be my girlfriend

I didn't want to tell him, I would never date him. Or that I didn't even know his name. That me and Mike laugh at the absurdity of him during math, or that I am kind of scared of him. He had enough balls to ask me out, more balls(or tenders) than I could ever had. So I did generic girl thing

Me: "I'm kind of seeing someone, but thank you(yes I said thank you) it is very nice of you to take an interest.

After I said it held my breath, because he kind of looked at me like he possibly knew I was lying. And I felt any sudden movement would show the truth. But he shrugged said okay and that he still wanted to hang out with me.

M*therF*cker. Why do i attract the freaks

It must be the green t-shirt I was wearing today. Maybe it brightens up my face or something, because today was one of those days where I felt the eyes on me, and didn't know why. From Waldo to men in subway, it was like a starefest and I feared I had put on the weird Madonna bra again.

Whatever it was I felt good today, I smiled at cute boy in library, I didn't f up in lab, I felt confident in my skin for once I was...Okay. I was secure and without the feeling of anxiety. It was weird, ever since the cry fest on Wednesday, and having to make sense of the house of anxiety, I feel like my head is becoming clearer, like I'm moving towards something, because I am getting further away from the thing holding me back.

And mean trust me i don't think i'm cured, but i have located where the wound is and am beginning to tend to it. And maybe i will continue to be okay for a while.

If that makes any sense at all.

I know it won't last long, but for today it was pretty neat. To feel like a sexy smart chick, apparently with an imaginary boyfriend, who looks awesome in her green Chicago shirt.

I need to wear green more often, I might be able to reel in a real catch one of these days; boy in library, smart kid in psych. Who knows.

Carl Sandburg visits me in a Dream.

Today before work I was walking down the aisle looking at books.

Since I began shelving books way back in August I have learned that many people have written many books about many things.

Every topic in the whole entire world has been written about, if not once than several times. I love picking up a book with a weird title and coming up with ideas of what it could be about.

I've seen books ranging from men on men love, the state of foreign policies, princess Diana, art books, cartoons, biology references, yadda yadda yadda. While shelving the books I understand the magnitude of writing, and the stuff people print. So even though I work there and should by now hate the smell and feel of some of those old crusty books, but I still get wide eyed being in the library.

So today I was running my fingers along the books(my favorite thing to do) I came across some books my Carl Sandburg. I had remembered the name from a certain song I play over and over again by a certain musician who I can't stop talking about, but need to because I don't think I can take anymore dreams with him in it. Anyway, because I was familiar with the name I figured "lets check out what his writing is all about" seeing that I am very unfamiliar with his work.

Another of my favorite things to do when in libraries is pick up a random book and open it to any page, reading the paragraph my eye catches. The book I picked up by Carl Sandburg was a book of fables, with an array of characters from flies and fleas to some sort of human beings called Hoomadoom, so the page I opened to was simply a short fable called Sleep Face,and this is what this particular fable read

Sleep face:

A hoomadoom man said to his hoomadoom woman " I like your sleep face"

"you mean you don't like my wake face"

"Sure I like your wake face. But I like your sleep face better than all your other faces."

Then she asked him one question after another. At first she thought he was fooling, but after forty questions and forty answers she saw what he meant when he said:

"You have a thousand wake faces and you can pick any wake face you want. But your sleep face is when you are you, and if you could see your sleep face you would say "Of all my thousand faces this one is me"

And that was all. From then on she put on a glad face and her eyes were like two lighthouses on the sea when he said "Best of all your thousand faces I love your sleep face"

This has got to be the best paragraph I have ever come across. It spoke to me, and I instantly wanted to share it with anyone who was near. Of course no one was around, and even if they were I don't think I would have said "YOU MUST READ THIS" so I waited to share it with you.

I find it lovely. And inspiring. I want my sleep face to be the most pleasant face of all. It was so weird it was beautiful. I almost couldn't let the book go.

Time to sleep(my beautiful sleep face nap), I am uber exhausted and have so much to do this weekend. Tomorrow I plan on going to the gym, I have neglected it for too long and need to get back into my work out routine that worked wonders this summer on the bod.

But today I will be lazy, drink cocoa and dream, perhaps even Carl Sandburg will visit me, I'm feeling all inspired for it.

The Crying Game

....and I ain't talking about the movie.

I cried today during therapy.

Damnit. I didn't want to cry, I was fighting it by biting on my lip, avoiding her eyes, and pausing to catch my breath. But as soon as my lip began to quiver I knew the dame was going to bust and the tears came tumbling down soon after

I HATE CRYING. More than anyone could ever know. I find it embarrassing and feel like my vulnerability is showing through. I feel like I should have better control over my emotions and feelings, and I especially hate doing it in front of people. I feel weak, insecure, and like a baby. I hate that feeling.

It was going well, I think, before I started crying.

I'm a little confused by the whole "talk about whatever" thing. I wonder where the resolution will come into play. I assumed on some level, I would present my problem to her, and she would fix it, and then all would be right with my world. But I guess the whole purpose is for me to fix myself, so me to patch up the cracks in my wall.

Behind the happy disposition I feel like she can feel and see the underlying pain, and it makes it very difficult for me to stop...Talking. I feel like she is trained to see past any bull, and though I mentally line up topics that I want to discuss with her (boys, academics, my dad) I end up reaching way down into my soul and pulling up what I never knew was there.

So as I take my seat I begin to talk about the house I drew. Though I thought it was a crappy picture that I sketched last minute, she said it was surprisingly pretty especially in regard to it being anxiety. I never thought about it that way.

She really wanted to know all about the house I drew. Why the roof was a certain way, what my favorite room was, and all this stuff. We ran with the house metaphor and she bounced ideas off of my head that I had never thought of before. The main point being that it was fascinating that I had drew and described my love of castles and Tudor houses, especially if I was the only inhabitant. That a house so overwhelming and full of echoes in which I reside could be a lot to handle.

Interesting. Then she asked about my writing, commenting that my stuff was really powerful, and if it was difficult to read it to her. This is the beginning of the tearful event. I said it was easier to read it to then it was writing it down. That I surprised myself with what I uncovered.

I made a comment along the way that I could never read this to my mother,and that's when the crying came on. I don't even know why, but instantly I said I felt she would be devastated if she ever read what I had written. That I would exposed as a liar, that the content, put together facade would all come crumbling down and then I would be exposed for a vulnerable broken girl. And I couldn't disappoint her. It would devastate me to no end.

I don't know where that came from. But I couldn't contain the tears, and I had to look away because I feared what she would think of me. I was afraid I had ruined a perfectly good session with my tearful dribble. After being handed a tissue I regained my composure and my session went on from there.

The tearful moment was never far from my mind though.

We then went on to discuss Validation. I said that sometimes I needed to be reminded of my self worth in people's lives. That there are many moments I feel like I am not important, but that on some level I think I may be selfish to seek validation. She said that that statement made her feel sad. Is that suppose to happen? I am suppose to make the therapist feel sad? She said that validation was a basic human need, and the fact that I felt it was shameful to want that spoke volumes to things eating at me. We then went on to talk about validation and I why I felt didn't deserve though I want it so bad.

If anything when I come out of therapy completely have a realization of not only the physical tension of anxiety but a mental tension of it. It's a a tug and push game I am playing with it. In respect to my house it is a place where I reside that offers me comfort but a place that I also don't want to be. I am stuck in between a place of needing/wanting/yearning acceptant but meeting it with resistance. I am comfortable and not comfortable all in the same place. I am the house of anxiety. A big beautiful palace, with a lot of room but whose doors are firmly locked.

And she asked me a question which I had never thought of: "You say you have become resentful of the house, what does it lack that makes you not want to be there anymore"

I don't know why I hadn't thought of that. Why don't I want to be there? she wanted me to throw whatever popped into my head. And all I can think of was

ME:" even though the house of anxiety is huge and nice and full of everything a girl could need, it's missing those small knicks and dents, scratches and marks on the walls and carpet that lets you know someone lives there. It doesn't have a smell, it's like an Ikea magazine. Everything is in it's place and perfect, but a home is suppose to have a window that won't open all the way, a door you have to tug to open, and a chip in the wall. This house doesn't have it, and it's annoying. It doesn't have a presence"

I am exhausted from an hour of talking, and am afraid of opening pandora's box. I don't know if I will be able to handle what all comes out of it. I question if I am strong enough to get better, because today I just vulnerable, and in desperate need of cocoa.

See this is why I need a boyfriend. So after therapy I could be like "CUDDLEFEST" and cuddle to music from iTunes. My head would rest on his chest as he stroked my hair, and we wouldn't even have to say anything, just be there. Together. Undercovers and cuddling. Instead all I have is this stupid stuffed frog, who I snuggle up with a night. He doesn't steal the covers though. That's a plus.

The Mix Tape

So I finished it...FINALLY.

I told you I was no Picasso, but it was the best I could do with my 2nd grade drawing skills. I wrote a lot more than I thought could possible come out of me(almost 2 full pages front and back), but it flowed freely and maybe she can see something in it that I can't.

I attempted to write outside thinking that maybe I could get some inspiration from the beautiful fall morning I woke up too.

I can't even go into how much I love fall. Leaves changing, chilly weather, the wind blowing. It's amazing. It's unlike any beauty I think I have ever seen in my whole life.

But it hasn't really seemed like fall to me this year. Being either in class, at work, or in my room sleeping, I haven't had the proper time to appreciate the changing color of the trees.

Like most kids, my favorite pastime during the fall was jumping in a huge pile of leaves. I would head over to the park, push all the leaves together and jump in it like it was the greatest toy ever. Sometimes the pile would be so high that I'd be buried under them. And only after feeling some bug on me would I get out of it. Amazing what difference happiness was as a kid and what happens is today.

Whatever the case the beauty of today was absolutely amazing. There wasn't a soul outside as I walked to the coffee shop. I took the extra long scenic way wanting to soak in the beauty as long as possible so I could soak it all in. Listening to a semi-sad soundtrack I felt uber introspective to get to work on The house of Anxiety.

But sitting outside writing about what anxiety was, only made me feel more anxious. And I returned back into my room away from the beauty of the leaves. I'm so ready to begin the journey of fixing what is broken that I restless with the possibility of getting better, and at the same time fearful that I might not.

But I hold on to the fact that I am just like the ever changing colors of the fall, and that there is beauty in change.

This day went by faster than I would have liked it. Tomorrow school goes on like it always does and I have all this crap to do that I have yet to even start. Not only do I have a math exam, bio exam, English paper, psych project and lab to attend to, but I also have a creative assignment assigned by my English professor. At first I was freaked out, what the hell was I going to do creatively. But she mentioned that someone had done a mix tape one semester...and I was like "hell yeah, that is what I am going to do".

It should be no surprise that I think music in itself is a form of storytelling,and I am more than happy to provide soundtrack for my realism class. I have been writing down artist who I must use, trying to bring a modern twist to realistic...bore. I hesitate using the word boring, but realism is so full of every single detail that one can get bogged down in explanation after explanation.

I'm hoping to compose 20 songs that best represent realism...possibly Iron & Wine, John Mayer, Fink, Imogen Heap to name a few. Maybe using more current music to represent the presence of realism even in our songs. I'm even going to make a little booklet provided with song lyrics and my two cents on it's importance.

I am somehow unable to find a space for a little Justin Timberlake "My love" on my soundtrack, though it would be amazing if I could. Disagree with me if you must, maybe I am completely showing my age, but Justin Timberlakes ability to make even the worst dancers, a booty shaking college student,speaks volume to his talent. I'm just saying. I've got that booty shaking dance down to a tee, and I have not hurt anything in the process.

Time to finish Anna Karenina, I've avoided reading her all day.

Diamond in the Rough

Well I just had my meeting with my chemistry teacher, and though I didn't get any points added back on to my test(damn) I did learn something, which I guess is better than any silly old points(okay who am I kidding, she could of helped a girl out).

I remember when I was in high school, I took journalism in the 10th and 11th grade. Of course due to high school politics, the more people you knew in the class and the more popular you were the more likely your article would appear in an issue. Needless to say the only article of mine that was published was about fall fashion. Yeah. Me. Fashion. HA HA HA.

But I did almost get a really good piece added and the teacher loved it. The only advice she had for me was:

"right now this is a diamond in the rough, a little polishing and you will have a really good article"

It still wasn't added to the damn school newspaper, but since then it has been a comment that has always been in the back of my head. A diamond in the rough.

It seems to be this theme with me, and has snuggly become symbolic of my life. In English my teacher is always saying "polish it up". In math my professor is always describing problem solving as "a language which has to be universal for everyone to understand. Take the time to understand it before you approach it", he loves to say. Even in science it's this skill of recognizing, polishing, and even perfecting the material presented before you.

So while me and the uber dorky smart(but really nice) Chem professor are chatting it up about approaching my next exam better, she said the same thing in context to solving chemical problems. Looking through my test, it was simple errors that slowly built up to deduction points from hell. I read a question the way I wanted it to be read, ignored concepts and went straight for what I memorized, and didn't apply general understanding of the material to the test. It was a sloppy, unpolished mess, which accumulated into a bad grade, a bad paper(English), a article that wasn't published, but most of all it has cost me a better understanding and progression of who I am; a girl caught on the fringe of self discovery and acceptance.

Could it be that I am a diamond in the rough. That those small inconsistencies in my everyday life, where I ignore the big picture, look for shortcuts, avoid smoothing out those edges, have led me on the path of coming up short...and with poor results. It is something to think about, to approach, and try to correct. If not academically than personally. Because I'm getting sick of coming up short, of seeing before me the possibility of something GREAT and not being able to grasp it firmly and run with it.

But thats just a thought.


OMG!!! Short boy at library has a potential short girl love interest...and it ain't me. I walked in on a conversation(when he should have been working) with him and my boss, as he was discussing some girl his parents may or may not like. WTF. M*therF*er. Though I have no interest in him, I did like being the object of his affection. I mean who doesn't love being someones crush( well except Michael Douglas and that poor bunny). Dammit even he has a lady love, while I have...not even a crush to...well crush on.

A high semester of self discovery, a low semester of love interests. I mean even a dorky library dude who is BARELY 5'2 may be getting a girlfriend, while I am dodging library pervs who want to feel up young college girls. Come on fate what have I done to you. All I ask is for a nice boy to cuddle with...and who kind of looks like Sufjan Stevens, is that too much to ask for.

Time to FINALLY finish my anxiety drawing, and then do whatever I want because I don't have class tomorrow. WHOO HOO.

Apparently I'm suppose to vote or something tomorrow, that's what Gideon Yago told me to do on MTVU. It's the in. And I'm all about following trends.

Just kidding, I'm totally anxious about the whole thing, and might have to get Mike drive me to wherever the voting places are. I understand the significance of voting, but I hate when people (P.Diddy) shove it down your throat to no end.I want to yell "I GET IT" already "I'm going to vote. I PROMISE". For one day I guess I can put the importance of how our government is run ahead of whether Nicole Richie is bulimic, if Borat is the funniest man in the world, or who is going to be kicked off America's Next Top Model this week.

Just for a day though.

If I were brave.

What a tiring day...and I haven't even done anything. I guess seeing my chem grade this morning kind of put a bummer on my late start, and after that I wasn't in a mood to do anything more than...wallow in self pity I suppose.

The test wasn't as bad as I imagined, but it wasn't good, especially compared to the B average the class as a whole made. Though I know I am not stupid, inept or just plain incapable of academic success in some areas, I can't help but be a little hard on myself when things don't work out as I have planned.

And this test didn't work out how I planned at all. I made an appointment to see her(maybe get some points added to my test for making an effort in wanting to pass her class), on Monday. See if she has any suggestions on how I can improve. I mean I know what she will say " go to study group, do some problems in the book, read the chapter..." but my real motive isn't going to get tips, but so she can see who I am, that I am trying and will bump my test up a couple of points. Who could resist this face.

We'll see what happens.

As I was wandering around the library, still pretty disappointed about the test, I remembered that I have to draw/write who anxiety is for therapy on Wednesday. I still only have the words Anxiety written on a piece of paper and a crappy drawing that resembles some cartoonish figure.

It's harder than it seems. How are you suppose to create something out of nothing. I mean trying to write what anxiety is to me, is almost as hard as trying to define who I am. Literally I have stared at the piece of paper with anxiety written on it and nothing has come to mind. It ended up in the garbage.

But as I was listening to a song today where the singer sang "get out of this house", the writer's block lifted. The dark cloud left and I became aware of what anxiety is to me. It is my house, it is the place I reside. It is not a person, someone who I lean on to protect me from stressful situations. But it is a place that I have built and reside in.

It makes perfect sense(at least to me), I admitted to the therapist that ever since I moved to this new place that I have suffered somewhat from anxiety. I mean of course it wasn't as apparent as it is now, it was probably subtle attacks that I mistook for just being an awkward teen.

Ever since moving, I have felt misplaced. Like I don't belong anywhere. I am struggling to find my way back home. Leaving the safety of everything that I had loved and cherished was damaging and then to be thrust into this new life and place I felt kind of like an orphan. I felt alone and unsecured in the new and frightening place I had no shelter from. I mean I had my mom and Morgan but I didn't have the sense of home anymore.

Year by year, as I became more and more uncomfortable with who I was because of everyone around me, I built walls. I must be a great architect or something because until today I hadn't realized that not only had I built walls to prevent the insecurities/connections/happiness in,but I have built a home. This orphan has grown up and built herself a house. A house called Anxiety and I am it's only inhabitant.

It's a comfortable place, a place that I return every time the outside world scares me.

Once a place that protected me from the judgment and insecurity, has suddenly become my prison. And though it is nice and comfortable, with it's many bedrooms, huge living room with every movie I could ever want, it is becoming hard to live there.

There are several walk in closets, many windows to let the sun in, and even a secret garden which I have the key too . There are rocking chairs, and bed with fluffy pillows. A library with my favorite books. A kitchen a top chef would love, and a bathroom with the the classic tubs.

It is an amazing structure on an amazing piece of land. From time to time visitors are let in. My mom has a key, my brother uses the spare, and Marie is asked over for movie nights. But in due time they too must go back home. And after a long day, sipping cocoa on my back porch staring out that the sky littered with stars, I can't help but wonder what's outside these walls. I can't but help feel like even though everything I need is inside this house, it is missing that certain thing that makes it home. But I fear what's out there, I fear that whatever lies beyond the horizon will turn me away and I will no place to run back to.

For now I sit comfortably in this House of Anxiety. With it's strong walls. A house that warms me during the cold, and promises it will always be there , a place for me to return to. Promises me safety and love.

But I can't help but wonder what's out there, and I can't help but feel like this house has become a prison.

I think that's what my anxiety is.

Now if I could only draw this house, make it something...So I can learn to live without it. It's okay to have a shelter, but not a house that never lets you out. Or that you are frightened to step out of. It's weird I feel like it's some sort of agoraphobia I am dealing with. But it is not a physical fear of stepping outside of this structure. It's this mental and emotional isolation that I fear letting that out to the world.

But I am becoming increasingly frustrated with this beautiful house, and I wonder more and more what's outside these walls.

It may not be as stable or secure, but perhaps has what i am looking for.

Daylight Robbery

Grounded.

The worst thing about being so elated is that reality brings you back down to earth with everyone else.

Last night was amazing. A little euphoric even. So I was still completely awkward in social situations. I marveled at the people who had come to the outdoor concert(FREE concert I may add) alone and were dancing and clapping, and taking pictures. Having a generally good time.

For some reason I am not comfortable doing that yet. I look around as if expecting a friend to come up behind me and tap me on the shoulder, but turning around I am instead met face to face with some stranger.

After a while though I wasn't so tense. His performance was amazing and I gazed at him, amongst the people in front of me, wishing I was on stage with him. Or that I was the piano. (Can anyone explain why tall people stand right in front of short people. Like they move all the way up to the front, just to make it difficult for the short girls behind them).

I left at around 8, and headed back to my dorm to study for two very important exams. Chem and psych. Those bitches were not easy today. I grasped all the concepts, studied my ass off this weekend(sometimes without the TV), I read the book, took the notes, calculated the calculations, and yet after being handed the 11 paged exam, my mind went completely blank. Like I had suddenly become the 2nd grade Beckett, with my pink power converse(oh yeah...I rocked converse shoes even then), who could only concept anything past 2nd grade math. It was like gibberish on a page, and I instantly wanted to cry for my Mommy.

Okay it wasn't that bad, but you get the point, it wasn't terribly easy. Especially after I thought I did a fine job studying for it. Psych wasn't that bad. Though on one of the question she wanted us to describe the physiological property of the drugs heroin and cocaine(don't ask). For some reason I thought it said physical properties, so thinking "I've watched enough cops" I confidently put down

"Crack is a white substance, commonly referred to as rock. It can be snorted(if crushed and made into a powdery substance) or injected in the arm from being heated on a spoon and using a needle".

After looking at the question(realizing the word was physiological) and my answer(realizing it may look like I knew first hand what the physical properties were) I quickly erased my answer and put a more appropriate one down. THANK GOD. She may have referred me to counselor had I left it.

All in all, I am exhausted, my brain cannot take in anymore school work. My body wants to collapse on bed, cuddle my blanket and listen to music. For as long as I want. For as long as the memory of the two exams fade from my mind, or/and existence.

OH....

Tuesday Me and Mike headed to this new cafe place on campus. They supposedly serve really good food, and because we got out of math early I told him to show me the place he wouldn't shut up about.

Our friendship...Is...very weird. I mean when I'm not wanting to run away from him, I like having him around. PLATIONICALLY of course. Whatever the case, we make the best of our friendship. We amuse each other, curse and argue while in math, and then head our separate ways. Just the way I like it.

But on Tuesday as we waited in line and talked about Heroes, the cashier smiled at us. I thought nothing of it, as I went to go look at what they were serving but as I turned my head back I heard her say "Are you two dating". I looked at Mike and he giggled and said no nicely. She couldn't stop there though "you should ,it would nice."

WHO THE HELL ARE YOU LADY? WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN. Of course I didn't say that but I turned my head and pretended like I didn't hear anything and so did he. And then we awkwardly talked for five minutes and made our quick exit.

Since then he has called more in the last two days than since I have known him. He calls to talk about math, asking if I can help him with a problem but then goes on to tell me how to do it. And then we talk about something stupid before getting off the phone.

AND TODAY....We go to my favorite roof top retreat and talk(he has to do a kissing scene for his acting class), laugh( at mean girl in math), and play a vicious game of UNO. OH yeah...UNO. I had a pleasant ti---NO NO NO---what is going on here. Stupid lady at shop putting ideas into people's head. Not my head of course, I would never---ever---EVER---consider Mike anything other than a friend. FRIEND. friend.

But I did have a good time. And I was even tempted to go to coffee place again with him after English. AS FRIENDS. who like to play Uno.

Friends. Right?

My head hurts

OMG!!!!!

I have taken procrastination to a whole new level.

Securing a place tightly as one of the greatest college moments set to date, was the concert i just attended!!!!!

So i was completely alone...

So i was not studying or the Chem(and psych) test that i have tomorrow!!!

But i spent 2 hours watching "Sex on a Piano" perform an amazing LIVE SET, right in the heart of campus.

Girls were screaming, boys were dancing, and i was tapping my foot.

IT WAS AMAZING. HE WAS AMAZING, AND SEXY....Sweat beaded his forehead, he pounded on the piano, did an amazing cover of MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE, and then walked off the stage like THE LIZARD KING, AND he was just the opening act. I am going to have sweet dreams tonight. Full of hot, sweaty...song singing thingy.....

I need to take a cold shower.

i don't know what to do with myself right now. I feel as high as a kite, and i need to come down from this cloud i will not be able to go to sleep.

Tonight was amazing, i wish you were there.

BECKETT.

PS. Sorry Sufjan, i cheated on you tonight and it was kind of sweet
PPS. Groupies are gross.